Thanks to Mr Warywatcher

Dear diary,

Tuesday 13 August 2012

After neglecting my diary for a week (and enjoying an wonderful stretch of idle time) I have suddenly realised that it’s kind of pointless and exhausting having to update my diary every day. Hmmm, Dakore Boyo is not as jobless as you think. Henceforth my online diary shall be filled only with the interesting details of my life or that of my friends and family.

Besides school holidays will soon be over and I won’t really be able to update a diary every day. Better now than later, I say. (My God, I am so lazy).

I woke up like a lazy person today by 9am. Mother (bless her soul) had taken her time to prepare some hot tea for me before going to work and I drank this slowly as I scanned the TV (No morning is complete if you didn’t switch on the TV less than 3 minutes after you woke up).

I spared like a minute to watch the news and immediately after the minute was spent I tuned in to watch more interesting channels. (My mornings are always boring now that my uncle is no more around).

OH forgot to share that with you. YES!!! He really is gone, though I can’t say the same for Aunty Chidera, his Fiancée who is still living in his room. Uncle left for Port Harcourt last Tuesday and shall be coming back on Saturday (oh I wish he didn’t have to). I am uploading this post so early this afternoon because I have to head out tonight.

Take care of yourself my readers. By the way L.I.L.Y. means Lagos I Love You. Hope you do too. 

Dear Diary,

Friday, 3^rd August 2012.

Hello, it’s me again.

For someone like me who prefers parties and music videos, bungee jumping and sky diving, the simple thought of sitting down and writing a diary is absolutely unbelievable. I hate writing my own diary! Seriously! But it’s absolutely necessary and what’s absolutely necessary is worth doing (you can’t stop breathing now, can you?). You would forgive me for abandoning you for a week, Dear diary. What did you expect?  I was busy (the usual excuse).

But seriously I was busy, real busy.

I stopped my last entry on Thursday evening with a cliff hanger; when mother wanted to see Aunty Chidera on Friday morning. Oh yeah. She did meet Aunty Chidera and they fell in love with each other. I must let you know that it was the weirdest day of my life.

Mommy was about to go to work when Aunty Chidera came downstairs. I was standing idly beside the front door when that happened so I had a good view of what was going on. Mother did look surprised when she glimpsed Aunty Chidera’s skinny legs, then her eyes opened wider and her jaw dropped at the size of those breasts.

Aunty Chidera smiled warmly when she noticed Mother seated on the couch and she made a polite courtesy and said something in Igbo.

Whatever she said must have been funny because mother laughed and replied in the same language. Then she turned to me and said. “Imagine Dakore, she thinks I am Igbo.”

I tried to make a mocking laugh but all that came out of my lips was a yawn (I really hate sleeping late).

After the introductions Mother and Chidera had a conversation in which mother smiled and laughed more times than she ever had in our house. I knew she would have talked all day if she didn’t have to go to work. But she did have work and she left the house. Aunty Chidera smiled at me after mommy’s car disappeared and returned to her room, I didn’t see her for the rest of the day. What a lazy woman.

Around 1pm I went to Saddiya’s cousin’s birthday party with Naola (I had a fall out with my little sister later that morning after she caught me on the webcam so I wouldn’t really say I came with her. It felt more like I arrived 10 minutes before her despite arriving at the venue in the same car).

The party itself was BOOOORRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNG…booooOOOOORRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNG.

I am a growing woman, I have developing breasts. I am as tall as my mother and my hair is long and beautiful. I really shouldn’t have been invited to a party for babies. Yes! Babies!!! The party was flled with all sorts of children of Naola’s age. The celebrant was a girl of 7 and she had so much phlegm falling from her nose despite how much many times they wiped it away. (One of my friends made a joke; He called her Toothpaste, because gross things kept squeezing out of her nose. Gross things like phlegm, and then more phlegm, and then more phlegm…eeeew. Sometimes the phlegm became dry and caked up before it was cleaned away. She was so EEEWW that I didn’t look her way more than twice).

The kids played all sorts of retarded games while I and my school friends sat in a corner and chatted.  Only Saddiya and Ingrid showed up of all my best friends, and Ingrid didn’t feel like talking much because she had to watch over a boy of four who she explained was her Aunty’s child.

I told her about my new Aunty Chidera and she sighed and patted my face.

“I can’t believe it,” she said after I was done with my lament. “The great Dakore Boyo is jealous of her Aunty.”

“No, I’m not. What’s wrong with you?”

Saddiya smiled and whispered something inside Ingrid’s ear. When I demanded to know what it was, she told me that I emphasized too much on my Aunty’s breasts.

“That’s a sign of Jealousy, my friend,” Ingrid added. “I don’t believe she had any surgery to enhance her body.  She might be a natural with the way you said it. Not every HOT lady is fake, you know.”

“Besides, we are Nigerians,” Saddiya pointed out and then stopped there as if that settled the fact.

Big breasts does settle the matter sometimes

 “Where are Demilare and his friend?” I asked after a while. “You promised they would show up, Saddiya.”

She simply shrugged and walked away. Ingrid sighed and soon disappeared herself then I was  left on my own with a bunch of kids. One of them spilled juice on my Hi Tops and another fell and hurt herself and then blamed me for tripping her. KIDS!

We returned home around 5 to find the house empty. Apparently my uncle had taken Aunty Chidera out. I believe this would be an excellent place to end my Diary concerning the events on Friday. The rest of the day was simply…. 

Hello, Dakore Boyo would be offline on Sunday August 5 and Monday August 6.

Short notice:

a.) She did attend Saddiya's party on friday and returned very late at night.
b.) On saturday she travelled out of Lagos and is expected back on Tuesday.

Her Diary would thus be updated next on Tuesday.
Thanks for the love

Dakore Boyo.

Thursday August 2, 2012

Dear Diary,

The time was 8:34 pm when I started typing these first words. I am in my room in front of my PC. I am smiling, I am listening to the Beat 99.9 fm which is presently playing ‘Chris Brown –Don’t wake me up’ (hope that’s the name) and I just had an excellent dinner which was prepared by who else but myself. There, I have a perfect beginning, now it’s time to dive in.

The last time I typed in you dear diary was in the afternoon and I filled you in on what happened the day before. Now it’s time to fill you in on what happened today.

What happened today?

Well nothing remarkable happened in my life in the hours before 12pm. I woke up, I checked my facebook (thanks for accepting my friend requests) and I checked my email too (next time please send me messages on facebook because I hardly ever check Gmail), I had breakfast, watched some film and then I handed Naola over to the neighbours who weren’t too glad to have her because she enjoys feeding their dog chocolate. Then I set about cleaning up the house. Mommy gave me those instructions this morning because as you well know that my Uncle’s girlfriend is coming over and I found out that I got a giant’s task at hand. Oooo lemme see:

1.)    I cleaned up my room first (I never realized I live like some prehistoric librarian until now). The task started by 10 Am and I finished in 2 hours!

2.)    I cleaned up Naola’s room (I am ashamed to tell you that my tiny sister is cleaner than me). Didn’t spend 10 minutes in that room.

3.)    I swept the sitting room and dusted the furniture. (an hour or so)

4.)    I pursued a rat but that doesn’t count.

5.)    I fed the dogs but that doesn’t count.

6.)    I cut my finger. That doesn’t count too.

7.)    I arranged the books in the library shelves. I didn’t finish this task because that was when Uncle arrived around 2 with…

Of course she's not the girl but I solemnly declare that she has more curves than the girl in the picture. Gosh! She was the one D’banj saw that probably inspired him to sing ‘Endowed’. But I believe she’s all fake; as fake as Nicki Minaj.

So she sauntered into our house carrying some D&G bag, her hair was long (not as long as mine though) and she was dressed in a red knee length flowery dinner dress that smelled like Beyonce’s Heat (I have never took a whiff of the fragrance before though, just guessing). Uncle looked misplaced beside her and I am not just saying this because I dislike him. He was also all smiles and he introduced us.

Uncle: Hi Dakore. Did you really clean this place? Wow. (To his girlfriend) this girl is as lazy as a palm tree. She should have been born a boy.

Girlfriend: she is Dakore Boyo, right? (Her eyes have a way of rolling down at people smaller than her. She was even taller than my uncle and she had a faint Igbo accent.)

Uncle: Definitely. She’s the one I told you that love to draw ninjas and tortured animals.

Dakore: (to girlfriend) Hi, nice to meet you. You must be the girlfriend he finally decided upon.

Uncle: (he doesn’t understand my words for some seconds. Finally his eyes blaze) what?

Girlfriend: I like your niece. She is not shy. I don’t like shy people. Shy people are stupid. (Here she narrowed her eyes at me). Shy girls are even more stupid.

Dakore: You look like a model (I study her busts). Are you a model?

Girlfriend: Do I look like one?

Dakore: (mscheeew) Why else would I ask?

Uncle: (to me) stop looking there!

Girlfriend:  (her chin is now raised and she looks rather smug) I am not a model. Well one day I wish to be one. But not now. Right now I deal in beads and jewelry. I have partners in the fashion industry though. One day I will bring you my catalogue.

Uncle: Her name is Chidera (Real name withheld).

Dakore: (extending my hands) I don’t really draw Miss Chidera. I write. I write poems and stories and one day I wish to be…

Girlfriend: (to Uncle. She didn’t receive my hand.) The drive from the mainland was tiring. I need to rest. Do you have a bath tub in this house?

Uncle: (glad he is finally noticed) we do have one but it’s broken down so you’d have to use the shower. Come my dear. (To me) finish up with the book, will you. Look at the mess on the floor.

Dakore: (mock bow) you are very welcome.

Sigh. From the first moment I set my eyes on chidera I disliked her, and not just because her breasts were too big (well that contributes but only 40%) One day I will find a five year old picture of her and see how ugly she really looked before her make over. I will definitely post that online.

I still don’t understand why any girl would want to alter the body God gave to her just because some boy or some job demands she does so. It’s so stupid and expensive, and pointless because at the end you will be attracting the wrong sort of men. It’s also dangerous.

I am too young to be acquainted with the names of whatever process she put herself through but after studying Chidera for an hour I could conclude she altered her body in 4 ways:

a.)    The breasts:  Gosh! Those are epic killers. I think the process is called Lipo suction or something. They forced silicone bags into them and made them stand out (please tell me the name because I don’t know)

b.)    The backside: Another Killer, but not as big as the breasts.

c.)     The nose: Too damn straight

d.)    The stomach: too damn narrow.

She shut herself in Uncle’s room all day and refused to come out even when Naola returned home and asked to see her. I believe she was re adjusting her make over so as to look good for mommy (if this is so then she probably spends 5 hours or more every day on re-adjustments. Talk about pointless). Let’s now assume my uncle eventually marries her and she decides to take me out to an event. We would be the most desirable couple in the whole place! And I shall be seen on some random magazine standing beside her but almost invisible behind all her “arsenal”. Let’s not forget that magazine article writers like to post hurtful comments on some pictures. Just imagine if they wrote: “Super Mom standing with her daughter. How long will it take before the little girl beside her transforms into the woman beside her?”

Gosh

Embarrassing.

Thanks to Mr Warywatcher

This post was added around 12am Friday morning:  

Mommy returned home very late around 10pm because of traffic. Chidera is already asleep by then (or pretending to be) and could not meet her. I will let you guys know what went down

Till next time’

Dakore Boyo.

Wednesday

 Dear Diary,

I am so very sorry for neglecting you for just one day, Oh I am so sorry. Did you miss me too? I bet you did, I can see it written all over your face and my keyboard (are those my tears or yours?).

I suppose I must get to it then, what happened yesterday.

Wednesday morning dawned brighter than the rest of the day in this week and not just because of the sun (the sun was but a shadow in the sky behind all those thick rain clouds). I woke up very sore and weary after sleeping very late the night before and said my prayers (did I really? I can’t really remember). My room was a bit messy with books and magazines scattered all across the floor. Somebody had knocked over my waste basket and there was an odd smell coming from behind my PC desk; the smell reminded me of Shea butter mixed with vomit, but that’s all fine with me. I stretched and yawned and said “good morning” to my room and then headed downstairs (my room has seen worse is why).

Then I received the best news I ever had this year:

My nauseous Uncle has fallen ill {Dakore Boyo solemnly declares under oath that she had nothing whatsoever, in any way possible to do with his illness. I hate him, yes, and might have every now and then wished upon him bird flu and every other vile disease, but I never really took my hatred literally. Most girls hate their uncles and I soon forget about him. It’s perfectly normal}.

When Mommy told me to go see to my uncle and wish him well I gladly skipped over. All he had was a cold but he made such a big fuss about it that it soon became ridiculous and tiring. He did have red though eyes and his palms were rather wrinkly and cold to touch (any doctors out there?) Mommy was driving him to the hospital that morning so I would be home alone with Naola (Did I hear angels singing?). I wished my uncle speedy recovery and handed him a drawing of a retching rat then I went to watch TV (you can bet it’s not the news).

I was at the TV till 11am until I received a call:

Dakore: Hello, who that?

Saddiya: Don’t you recognize the voice that could only belong to the ONLY music star from your class. Hello Dakore, How is your boring life?

Dakore: (finally recognized the owner of the voice) Is that Saddi?

Saddiya: Does the Pope ever pray?

Dakore: Just tell me will you?

Saddiya: You should know better than to ask me stupid questions, Dakore.

Dakore: (feeling foolish) Yeah you are right. But we are Nigerians, We ask stupid questions most of the time.

Thanks to Mr warywatcher

Saddiya only called to invite me to her cousin’s birthday party which would be happening on Friday. She promised me Demilare would be present and he would be bringing his friend along {that girl really knows how to persuadeJ}. I promised I would be there (My uncle had better remain ill) and called Janice to ask if she is going also. Obviously she hadn’t been told (Saddiya and Janice have been at each other’s throats since last term. I hope they reconcile soon. They were once best friends).

I received an email from a fan of my blog around 11:30am. He asked me if Dakore was my real name. I replied “No Sh*t.”

By 12pm, Naola’s home tutor arrived and the drama of the day happened. She brought along a boy she was teaching at the same time and sat him on our big couch. (I’d like to ask at this point if it’s legal to bring a child into the home of a stranger. I didn’t ask of course but the boy’s boy’s parents probably didn’t even know their child was at our house the whole time the tutor was meant to be teaching him at his own house). He was a right pest, that boy. His real name has been withheld for security purposes so I will simply call him Dayo

The first thing Dayo did when he saw me was point and laugh. “Look, look,” he said. “That girl has got paper stuck to her head. Haha,”

Paper! He was right. There was a wasted piece of paper glued to the side of my head where it had probably slept with me all night. Nobody except an obnoxious little boy bothered to let me know about it. (Now I know why my Uncle had that stupid grin on his face all the while I was in his room. I have the worst family in the world).

“Look here,” I told Dayo. “It’s impolite and foolish to laugh at strangers. It’s even worse if the stranger owns the house you are presently in.”

But Dayo only laughed louder and rolled on the floor, literally. Naola’s home tutor sent me away before I got mad and I returned to my room where I checked my Google mail and found out that the person had replied. He told me his name and asked for my phone number, then he commented that my blog would be better off without my private diary being posted online for all to see. I replied by telling him that the blog was all about the diary. Some people would find Mr warywatcher’s cartoons more preferable to my boring life.

By 1:30pm, after receiving a call from daddy, Naola came running in to my house looking like she had seen a ghost. She told me that Dayo just peed on himself.  Here’s how she narrated it: “Dayo has ‘wiwied’! Our Aunty (she meant the home tutor) received a call and was at it for a while. That was when he dozed off, then he ‘wiwied’. Come and see Dakore.”

I did go to see and it was such a sight. The home tutor was seated a great distance away from the crime scene and looked ready to break down in tears. Dayo was standing where Naola must have left him and he was staring at his feet with a certain amount of guilt written across his face and of course Naola hadn’t bothered to leave my room. So it was just we three in the living room, looking at each other uncomfortably and stretching the silence between us. Time seemed to have frozen as we stood there and when I couldn’t take any more of it I asked the question that had been burning my chest.

“Who is going to clean this up?!”

Of course I wasn’t going to clean someone else’s pee. Eeeeww.

Dayo really picked the worst place to pee; Right on our big couch. The stain on that fine piece of white furniture would certainly make mommy show her dark side if she returned from work all stressed and should happen to see it. Naola’s Home tutor looked incredulously at me after I asked the question as if she expected me to do the cleaning and then her nerves shattered and she started to cry like a baby.

“Please Dakore,” she pleaded. “Don’t tell your mother all right? I will clean it just don’t tell your mother.”  Then she rounded on Dayo. “Look what you’ve put me into. You are never coming back here, that’s a fact. You are such a pig! You are (this) you are (that)…bla bla.”

It would interest you to know that Dayo had a wicked smile on his face as he watched his teacher scrub hard. That boy has some serious issues.

eeeewwww

Our big couch still has that stain (obviously she couldn’t wipe it all away) but it now has a smell like lemon juice. After the home tutor whisked away the pest of a boy (and gave to me some compensation) I carefully poured a glass of lemon juice over the stain to get rid of the foul pee smell. After sharing my compensation with Naola, she agreed to take responsibility for “spilling juice”.

Mommy returned very early that evening and announced that uncle would be returning tomorrow morning. She also said that Uncle’s girlfriend would be coming over as well. Mommy doesn’t know of course but Uncle has a great deal of girlfriends. I wondered which one of them it would be (obviously He’s going to have to have to marry her because she would be the first one he is presenting to mommy).

When Mommy saw the stain she immediately recognized it as pee. She said: “Who’s the stupid baby that peed here?”

It took ten minutes of argument to convince her it was lemon Juice and even then she still wrinkled her nose as she left for her room (Naola’s teacher owes me a great deal. Remind me to ask her eh?)

That night at our house was very weird because it was the first one in two months that I wasn’t spending with uncle. I found myself watching some news as I flicked channels (I still can’t believe I watched the news on my own) then by9 pm I returned to my room and locked up.

That’s all that happened on Wednesday.

It’s time to sleep dear Diary; I will fill you in on what happened today in five hours’ time. By the way the time is now 2:43pm, Thursday 2 August 2012. If you got this blog post late it means I slept off.