Isn’t God Good?

Well well well, life is good. All things really work together for those who love God.

I returned to working today(yesterday now) and it’s already been one of my best days ever. Although, I’m writing this post at 7:29am and work technically hasn’t actually (well, wrote now since I didn’t post it immediately) started but hey.

Coming back, I’m technically not a new guy. And so I made every new face around know that I knew how things go here. And can we take a moment to please appreciate the good Lord for the influx of women into the place. I don’t have ovaries but something in me was definitely vibrating. Beautiful ladies everywhere.

If you know me, you know me and short lived joy are like

(Yeah I couldn’t find that picture of that old man uno, placing his fingers side by…. Never mind. Sigh)

But not today. Today is my day. Today, I smile. All this happened at the head office. I should mention that I wasn’t going to be working here but at one of the branches elsewhere which had only males; like not one females and wait, now that I think about it, why am I happy please?

I was supposed to resume since Monday but I fell ill so I had to wait till today. Hold it, I don’t like all those get well soon, are you okay brouhaha so just hold it

I’m only here to collect my letter before returning to my men-only branch but I definitely wasn’t going to leave without causing some trouble.

If you’ve been here for a while you’ll remember this guy. I want you clicking so you’ll have to click that link to remember who (☺☺). While greeting everyone and relplying their ‘you’re done now, congrats, what next’ questions/comments(literally, and I shit you not, 2 people, TWO! No love for a brother guys, 0 love), I ran into our guy.

Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know a word to describe the tension in the air at that very moment but it was something like that shine shine that appeared between Naruto and Sasuke’s eyes that time they  fought.

But because I’m Yoruba and my mum spiritually slaps me when I don’t have respect, I greeted him. He responded positively before proceeding to -mistakenly say, and I quote ‘Can you get me *confidential* from HR?’. Hello sir, graduate speaking, who doesn’t work for your ‘I don’t like you’ head speaking, No… Is what I wanted to say. But I ended up saying ‘Oh? Sorry, I’m in a hurry. And I don’t work for you by the way’. Cool right? Or not. Well it was cool too me. And then i walked away smiling. Broad smile. I’ll probably regret doing that sometime in life but God forbid.

It was a  good feeling. Made up for that nonsense he , all the nonsense he put me through last year. Good feeling until that my mum’s spiritual slap I mentioned put me back in my right senses. Unfortunately the person I wanted to see didn’t attend to me early so I had to wait a while in the reception. Our guy came by there and I felt kind of awkward cos he was looking at me and I know if he had his way, I’ll be in three comas right now.

Lol he’s trying so hard not to look at me right now. Ha! 

I’m getting attended to now. Gotta run. But really,isn’t God good?

Wait! Is this my 3rd post in as many days?


Please Pray for my Bingo

It’s so cute. Many of you actually think I’ve turned a new leaf and will now be posting daily. So cute. Just kidding. I probably will…………………..not.

I’m alright now and re-resumed work today. This is basically my second first day at work. The details will bore you so let’s leave it at that.

Nothing much to say today. I just want everyone, religion regardless, to please, pray for my Bingo. It goes without saying that what I mean is, pray for my dog. She’s not sick, or dying or anything. She just needs a touch from the supernatural realm. Oh, and by the way, her name is not Bingo either  (And I won’t be revealing her name before one of you uses her name for money rituals). This family friend of ours had the habit of shouting (in Yoruba) “Have you locked your Bingo?” anytime we went for house fellowship back in the day cos the hosts had this wild lion they lied was a dog. Ever since then, I actually thought the Yoruba word for dog was Bingo so now I call every dog a Bingo.

So what is wrong with my Bingo, you may wonder. Well for starters, she doesn’t want to pregnate. I’m 100% sure that’s an incorrect word but trust me,  it’s the only word that can make sense here. Apparently, I learned that, unlike human females, dog females have/get/see (whatever it is) their period every 6 months. That’s a very long time to wait. Even longer when you know your Calabar friends are ready to pay you proper money cos apparently, dog meat is (supposedly) littt.

The moment we noticed she was bleeding, we quickly organized an arranged marriage for her with one wild, seemingly potent Bingo. I say seemingly because with all his muscle and ‘shakara’, the idiot couldn’t pregnate my Bingo.

You know what’s most annoying about the whole thing, our Bingo came back home, tired, weak and lazy. And so we imagined she had received signals and her body was multiplexing all the signals cos I know definitely that the other Bingo must have fired my Bingo multiple times. Turns out this our stupid Bingo was pretending the entire time. She got more food, more attention, more love, more special treatment since we thought she was pregnant.

Well months have passed now and we know she’s been pretending the whole time. Yes, she’s suffering a bit now but she deserves it. Next time, she will receive signals properly. Sigh, I actually can’t go on typing this whole thing cos it’s ridiculous to me, and this is coming from someone that has typed all sorts of…… well, you guys can testify.

Her craftiness regardless, I would appreciate if you guys find it in your heart to include my Bingo in your prayers. Thank You.

Have You Eaten?

Chapter 1 – Introduction

Instead of starting off by- and for the 52nd, I think, time- apologizing for ghosting for such a long time, this time, I’m going straight to the point cos I been exposed to some quality fire recently.

It has been a worry to me but I pretend not to care. Old man like me and I have not settled down. Old man like me and I don’t have my rib. I’ve had the past few days to think a lot cos I’ve spent most of them shivering in bed and watching Archer and Silicon Valley[LoS]; and researching.

Chapter 2 – Literature Review

I have discovered the cause of my problem. I don’t ask people if they have eaten. In my defense, I only learned about this key question only recently; about 4 months ago. I had just met someone and during one of our conversations, she asked me if I had eaten. It was alien to me so I’m like, ‘Sister, wyd?’, cos to me, it was a joke. She took offense and asked me to answer. I hadn’t so I said no. After wasting her time, begging me to find something to eat, I lied that I would and our conversation ended.

Chapter 3 – Research Methodology

Why ‘lied’? Well, this life has seasons. It’s like Barclays Premier League, one day you’re Chelsea, next day you’re Cardiff City. Ladies and Gentlemen, this particular day, I was Portsmouth. Can’t tell how it happened but on that particular day, I was running for president of Broke-lyn™[Jenifa’s Diary, 20-I dunno], so madam’s ‘go and eat’ was a joke to me.

Chapter 4 – Results and Discussion

Anyway, weeks passed and I started to notice that ‘have you eaten?’ was a serious thing. I under-studied (see, if you want to get to the top, you have to not carry shoulder up) some of my friends that had wives (even though no ring yet but e sure); keyword: wives, cos that’s what I’m looking for; age is not on my side. It was observed that these friends consistently asked their wives if they had eaten and their wives asked too. Even those that cheated, I observed that they asked their main sides if they had eaten and didn’t ask the girls that, well, can’t call them sides, so let’s just call them the tray.

Chapter 5 – Conclusion

So what is my point? Apparently, if you want to make it, you must ask if someone has eaten. Well, my new sliding-into-the-dm line is ‘Hello baby, I’m a b*****-*****r[Ololo All-Stars 2015], have you eaten?’ It has a 97.3% success rate[TwitterDms, 2016] so I recommend it. <<<<—- Is what I wish my conclusion is. My real conclusion is, there is a possibility something is wrong with all of you. How can you be asking me if I have eaten, then I say no, and you don’t bring Jollof rice and Plantain and this fire peppered chicken Alhaji Mustapha does for my mum to my doorstep? Actual bombs dey your heads[BoS, 2016].


Library of Shovel™ 2014

Jenifa’s Diary, Season I-dunno, 20-I dunno

Ololo All-Stars, IP, 2016

Twitter Direct Messages 2016

Brain of Shovel™ 2016

Sidenote: these people that made my text editor are red underlining Jollof! Nigerians, what are we doing?

Don’t Be A Wasp

Some days back at the hospital; while shivering and wondering why I had to fall sick at such a very important time, these two siblings – I guess – were arguing and out of nowhere, one called the other one a wasp. Growing up, I’ve heard all sorts of name-calling but – and I’ve lived long enough- never have I heard a human being call another human being a wasp.

When I got a little better and could finally muster up some strength, I decided to do some research. If memory serves me right, every animal/insect has an economic importance. I remember because Mrs. Amujo destroyed my backside during one class when I couldn’t list three economic importance of termites.

And so the first thing I did was google ‘economic importance of wasps’. Different articles came up and I wasn’t seeing anything so bad about being a wasp—- until, many pages down the line, I came across this picture


If there’s anything the internet has taught me (hello Twitter), it’s that pictures are more reliable than any scholarly article or write-up, don’t ask me how.

From what we can gather from the picture above, it must be terrible to be as wasp. Rather than talk about how unfortunate wasps are, which would be me basically repeating everything in the picture, I want to get one or two things off my chest.

So, mosquitoes. If wasps are terrible, mosquitoes must be I-don’t-know-the-word. Those nonses literally do nothing positive. Asides play Beethoven next to your ears and make sure you don’t sleep well, and oh, give you Malaria, I can’t think of anything they’re useful for. First thing I’m doing when I get to heaven is ask God why? Why did you have to create then Lord, why?

After all my research, it is safe to say, Ladies and Gentlemen, don’t be a wasp. And if you get called a wasp, you must be really terrible. Really. It’s up there with being called ‘arindin'(If you know, you know).