#TrafficDiaries – Cursed Consistency and My Ball Sack

Yeah, the former part of the title doesn’t exactly have much to do with the contents of this post. You guys don’t need to tell me. I’m well aware. My consistency here is tragic *Kim Kardashian voice*

Ah yes, before I forget. The club I support, FC Barcelona; Yeah, that club with one short man you must have heard of; Lionel Messi; You may know him as the G.O.A.T (Dont argue); Club with that real life vampire, Luis Suarez; we won our league. Most of you don’t care but it meant a lot to me so excuse my brief bitching.

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With that off my chest, let’s go straight into today’s slightly scary #TrafficDiaries entry; which by the way is short.

How I kinda, sorta, lost my man parts (For a few minutes though

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It’s true, unfortunately. Today was a beautiful day.
Left home quite early so getting to work didn’t involve the ever present 3rd Mainland traffic. Work was equally wonderful. A bit stressful but fun stress; you can’t understand.
Beautiful day aside, I looked forward to closing time, 5:00pm. No place like home you know. 5:00pm came and not a second after, your boy was off. As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I’m saving to buy a Mercedes Benz , pronounced ‘Macidis Behns’. So I’m currently Vice President of the trek trek/bus crew. Don’t worry, I’m making progress.

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N11,999,675 more and I will become a big boy; riding around town in my motor car, picking the ladies :):)

The bus ride home was peaceful. Except the expected places where there had to be heavy traffic. All in all, the day was soothingly on fleek. I even bumped into Precious, a technical bae whose smile always made the world a better place anytime I saw it. Best part of the day.

Judging from my history, I don’t come here to give you guys gist about my perfect moments. They don’t interest you. It’s the annoying, shitty moments that gets you guys.

I’m sure fate must have been looking at me as I got off the bus at my final bus stop before I got an estate bike that would take me to my house like ‘Haha perfect day my ass’.

I waved off, or down, or whatever. I bin stop one bike sha. Bike man was like, ‘Good evening. How was your day?’. I’m like , ‘ Wawu, your english is beautiful’ , considering he was an aboki. Man was like, ‘I’ve carried you before, I’m familiar with your route’.
In my mind, I’m thinking , ‘okay stop. Who is this aboki that is speaking even better than me?’
I told him that’s nice and we began to move.
I was busy typing away on my phone, not paying attention since my guy claimed to know the way. That’s how all of a sudden, I felt the bike go UP and slam DOWN into the ground. We had just gone in and out of the deepest pothole ever. I shit you not, I felt my ball sack in my stomach. I screamed and almost slapped my guys head.
Apparently, the olodo actually knew my house but passed the worst possible route ever. I’m like, ‘Ogbeni, why dafuq did you have to pass here?’ And he had the guts to reply, ‘In my defense, it’s a shorter route and I wanted to get you home as early as possible’. I didn’t know when I told him to stop forming Queens english and spit pidgin.
The ride home was death. My ball sack kept going in and out and in and out of my stomach. When I finally got home, I couldn’t feel my testicles.
Went straight up to my room, and did this basically

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Just slot in placing a chilled can of Malta Guiness on my man parts between laying down and trying not to cry since that’s what I saw mandem do in movies when they hurt their testicles.

So here I am. Typing, trying not to move too much cos any slight movement will send shots of pain down there. Med students, will I still be able to make beautiful babies? Will my testicles stop hurting? Plix hansa me.

Refer back to the picture of Raheem Sterling above. That’s my face right now

Fuck this entry man; A thousand times over.

Bye

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