Dear Diary

Dear Dairy,

Its barely 1pm and already so much has happened. I've been to Maryland and back during which I was saved from being swindled or whatever that vile fat smelly pig and his fake "Camerounian" partner had in store for me; I endured an endless conversation a cab man was bent on having with me much to my chagrin; I was given directions to the "Traditional Indus Power Temple"; and was exposed to show of a conductors behind thanks to his "ARSEnal" boxers which rode low on his hips.

Within this period I had also gone for an interview which looks positive and met a brilliant young lady I could learn a thing or two from. Now as I sit putting my morning experience to writing on my blackberry,a cold can of Malta Guinness in hand, I have a myriad of expressions on my face, as my sister has pointed out. I'd tell you what I told her, the tale of an eventful morning.

The morning began with family devotion, after which I showered and got prepared for my interview. You know what that means, 30 solid minutes in front of the mirror, preening and prepping, styling and combing (I have my natural hair on so it takes extra time), and putting on my make-up which was basically, blue eyeliner for my upper eyelid, black for the lower, Iman powder and a swipe of red lipstick. Sprayed on my Burberry Beat and as an after thought my sister's CK 212 Sexy which was staring longingly at me on the bedside table. I looked at the final result in the mirror and was content with my reflection. A beautiful, confident and well put together young lady stared back at me wearing a cream lace blouse tucked into a black and white polka dotted skirt and black ballet pumps. Yes I was ready to face my day. I walked to the bustop and after flagging down 2 taxis, I finally settled for one (the cheapest one of course). The time was 8:30am and by my calculation I was to reach my destination in record time, traffic and all. And so the story begins with "Alhaji Talkalot" as I termed him in my head. Heavily tribal marked with what sounded like an Oyo accent. The dude just dey yarn sha. First it was about the bad road, then the government, then the police. Bros just dey yarn dey go...I taya!

Got to my destination at about 9:30...and I must confess, there was a little praise and worship going on in my head. I was ushered into the waiting room and after about 30mins...I met my interviewer. The first thing that caught my eye was her smile. Brief but genuine. She was pleasant too, even though she put me on the spot a coupla times....but hey, what's an interview without those moments. The whole session went well enough and all protocols observed it was time to go home. I had to get out of the estate to be able to take a cab or a bus as was the plan from the get go, since the journey back home was pretty straight forward.

It was then that I heard a guy calling for "Oshodi" which was where I was headed to from what looked like a neighborhood cab. It looked safe enough so against my better judgment I boarded the cab. About 10mins into the drive, the passenger at the back seat signaled his wish to alight from the cab. When it was time to pay the cab fare, he paid in dollars. At that point warning bells started ringing in my ears. The cab man called his attention to the fact that he was given dollars instead of the regular "N50" only for the guy who had previously been speaking normally to start talking incomprehensibly...forming Camerounian. By now, the warning bells were playing a loud symphony in my head and I got down from the parked cab. The driver was trying to reassure me to get back in the cab, saying he just wanted to drop the "Camerounian" at the Cameroun Embassy around the corner after dropping me off in Oshodi (wait first, is there a Cameroun Embassy in Lagos?). I was not interested. All that was in my head were kidnap stories and my mouth was filled with songs of praise for my narrow escape. I entered the next bus that called "Oshodi" and even then I still had a prayer on my lips. I had finally calmed down, as the worst seemed to be over. Until I noticed the passenger beside me staring intently at a poster stuck to the side of the bus. I took a peek to see what was so interesting and Viola!!! It read "Traditional Indus Power Temple". I shook my head at the ignorance of people (yes I was judging the passenger intently studying the poster like she was preparing for JAMB). If they could make people rich and had all the answers to ALL peoples' problems as they claimed...why were there still troubled people around? I shook my head again and turned my face to the other side only to find myself staring at the butt crack of the conductor all thanks to his "designer Arsenal" boxers almost falling entirely off his hips. I snapped my head in the opposite direction immediately. Only me all these unpleasantness in one day?!!! Who did I offend?

And that was how my morning went. I'm back home safely and yes I gave my mum a big hug before regaling my experience to her. Right now I'm about to start sewing and I'm still so grateful for God's protection. Forget what you heard, prayer does work!

Oops its 1:45pm already?!!! Duty calls.

xoxo...gossip girl!!! LoL (well technically this was no gossip. It did happen to me. Today!)