'I live in a space inside my head,a cluttered space crammed with random thoughts about life, love and the struggle of being a 27yr old african woman trying to 'find' herself but losing her self in the process.I always vowed when I was growing up that I would do things differently from my mother. As the years have gone by I find myself modelling my life on the woman I thought I wasn't strong enough to become,'(If you ever have the chance to meet my mother even once, to be given the chance to be half the woman my mother is, you will know that you have been truly blessed) Finally I have had to embrace the fact, that I'm nothing but My Mother's Child....

Thursday, March 19, 2009

'Wallop me Mama for I have sinned'......

I was awarded the 'honest scrap award by Poeticallytinted. (see bottom of post for a picture of the award which Poeticallytinted gave me because she thinks my blog’s content or design is brilliant (ha ha ha how can I not be bigheaded when I literally have a big head). Thank you so much PT for showing my blog some love, unfortunately since there are no interesting facts about Ms DM, instead of the 'ten honest things about me' I have decided to do a post on ten 'sins' I have honestly been walloped for by my mama 'the queen of corporal punishments'.

10 honest sins things about me that I have been walloped for

1. I nearly got expelled from Primary school aged 7 for writing an explicit letter with hand drawn pornographic images. My mother has never forgotten this and she tattoed scars on my behind so that neither would I.

2.I once got my mother to fire a new housegirl because she had too many pimples on her face and i refused to eat what she cooked. My father concerned that I was not eating got my mother to fire her. my mother walloped me in my father's abscence for being shallow then turned me into the 'housegirl' for the remainder of the school holidays.

3. My brother who was aged 7 at the time once got me (at age 13) to electrocute myself on a socket claiming that it would feel 'nice'. My mother tatooed his behind, his face and his back in her expert effortless fashion, screaming 'is this nice?' over and over again.Then tattoed my behind for being foolish enough at 13 to listen to a 7year old boy and nearly getting myself killed in the process.

4. I was once 'chucked out' of our local church together with my aunt for being 'inapporpriately dressed in miniskirts. My mother cleared all our wardrobes and threw away anything that was 'above the knees.' which loosely translated means 'she left us with no clothes that were not trousers, jeans or school uniforms.

5.My mother once made me and my cousin sleep (nearly the whole night)outside our front gate in a hailstorm for going on a date with a guy at the same restauramt that she happened to be at for a business lunch. After being made to sleep outside we were still walloped the next morning.

6. My mother once made me and my sister shambock each other (nearly to death) for her entertainment (not strictly true but painfully accurate). We had gone to our nieghbours house and ate dinner there (because it was chicken and rice) and we were sick of the vegetarian (sabbath) saturdays at my house. Stupidly we had arrived home with 'rice and chicken' stains on our clothes.

7. I once 'shared' a man with my cousin because she was not convinved I was telling the truth when I said that he was a very good kisser and an expert at 'touching' up a woman that I agreed to let her 'expierence' it for herself. My brother told my mother and she walloped me and my cousin for 'trying to run a prostitution ring in her compound.

8.On holiday at my grandmothers I once wrote a letter to my father complaining bitterly about her alleged (false) cruel treatment of us (my brother and I)so that my parents could come pick us up. My mother brought my grandmother the letter, read it out loud in front of her and several other people and still left me in her care.....the treatment became accurately cruel (and not false) for the duration of that holiday.

9. In kindergaten I once stole and eat another child's lunch of jallof rice....and was caught. My mother cooked two big pots of jallof rice and demanded that I finish them or else she would wallop me. I finished them.....she still walloped me expertly.

10. When still at nursery I was so ashamed of an uncle of mine that my mother had asked to drop me at school (because he had a beard and had also just arrived from the village) that i lied to him that 'adults' were not allowed on the school premises and asked him to drop me round the corner. The teacher sent my mother a letter asking why I had arrived at nursery unaccompanied. My mother (after asking said uncle why he had not taken me straight into my nursery class and he told her what I had said to him) realised what I had done and walloped me for being ashamed of my relatives.

As i am incredibly selfish and want to hold on to the award lazy I will bend the rules of the award by not list seven blogs I find brilliant because every blog on my blog list and (those that i have ever read/commented on) are brilliant. However I will tag the first person to comment on this post to write thier own 'ten sins I have committed' post.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

The Truth that got me 'Rihannad' ..............

My mama taught me all kinds of lessons, " if you so much as touch a guy you can get STI's", "you can get pregnant by merely smiling at a man", "your mother will know if you have fooled with a guy because your uterus is linked to her umbilical chord". My mother was a diligent teacher, she taught 'practicals' as well. Painful lessons delivered with equally pain inducing apparatus, shambocks, slippers, branches from our mango tree and my fathers Italian leather belts and stilettos thrown on the spur of an angry moment. Yes my mama was a professional at all kinds of lessons that involve torture but unfortunately she forgot to teach me the most important lesson of all 'under no circumstances shalt thou spit at random dudes'. I will never forgive her for this oversight, and neither will my ass.

He walloped me, right in the middle of the high street (or its African equivalent). 6 inch heels held firmly in both hands, I ran like the wind towards my mothers office, what better place to seek sanctuary than in the arms of the woman who bore you. BIG MISTAKE. He ran like a tornado, chased me right past the uniformed doormen and the revolving door whilst continuing trying to kick me with his size 13 Wien Brenner clad caveman feet. (who knew men could multi task). As misfortune would have it I bump into my mother (with random guy still in hot pursuit) waiting for me in the lobby. My mother being my mother takes charge of the situation, by take charge I mean she wanted to know, 1.why I was ten minutes late for our appointment, 2. why I was charging into her office like a shoeless crazed idiot whilst being chased by another equally crazed but shoe wearing idiot. Before I could utter a single word Crazed Shoe Wearing Idiot blurts out 'Ma I do not know this girl, can you imagine she spat at me right in my face, spat at me like i was dirt, common filth, can you imagine Ma?' .

I can not describe to you what took place after he uttered that sentence. All i will say is hell hath no fury than a mother whose child has just spat at a random stranger. She walloped me. Right there in the front lobby, in full view of the underpaid receptionist with a hairstyle she could barely afford on her wages and was clearly supplementing by being sugar daddied by my mothers deputy (a story for another day). In full view of the doorman with his weather chapped hands, roughened from years of carrying management briefcases and holding the door open for senior management like my mother who were not disabled but were apparently deemed wealthy or educated enough not to have to carry out such trivia as opening their own doors or carrying their own briefcases(again another post for another day). Briefly my mother turned to Random Shoe Wearing dude and said with her boardroom authority 'my son let me handle this' and took off her Zanotti heels and preceded to wallop me like a new bride pounding yam to impress her new in laws.

I danced the 'two step' my feet yoyoing on the marble floor as if i was stepping on hot coals as my mother attempted to educate me the best way she knew how. The door man tried to come to my rescue but nearly got his weather chapped hands (that he used to carry management briefcases) 'stilettoed' and quickly retreated. I guess he was more interested in saving his briefcase carrying hands than preventing my mother from 'domestic violencing' my arse. Its ironic that it was random show wearing dude that saved me, he knelt down arms raised in the air as if in surrender, and cried 'Ma i beg wo you leave the girl , she doesn't know any better, please ma.' By this time i was cowering behind him, seeking protection from the very person who ten minutes before I had so eagerly (with his encouragement if i might add ) spat at. My mother ordered me upstairs, and as i was getting into the lift I could hear her offering random shoe wearing dude some money "apparently for the indignity I had made him suffer" which he then had the indignity to accept. That was the best or the worst walloping I ever got (depending whether you were interviewing my mother or me). This walloping had been completely undeserved and up to this day I feel strongly that a great injustice was committed right there in that office lobby.

*rewind 15 minutes earlier*

You see I had met Random Shoe Wearing dude outside the bank as I was going to my mother's office. Granted i had spat at his face, looked him in the eye and then intentionally spat at him with all the force i could fathom, but he had asked me to, Literally asked me to spit in his face, his exact words were 'If you do not fancy me, like I fancy you, spit in my face and then i will know you mean it.' I had refused but he had insisted kept following me all the way from the Bank towards my mothers office. I asked him to stop following me as i would get into trouble if my mama saw me with a random shoe wearing dude but he insisted 'spit in my face to prove you are serious and i will leave you alone. I pleaded with random shoe wearing dude to leave me alone but he would not listen, 'spit in my face, he urged, spit at me or else I will follow you right into your mother's office. As we rounded the corner and I saw my mothers multi story office building looming in the distance I debated whether I should.....'spit in my face' he yelled with zeal enjoying the discomfort that he was putting me through. At that very moment I made my decision..' Spit in........'(I did not let him finish this sentence) I turned looked him in the eye and dutifully obliged.

fast forward 3 seconds later

He walloped me, right in the middle of the high street (or its African equivalent). 6 inch heels held firmly in both hands, I ran like the wind towards my mothers office.......................

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Date Me, coz I'm Rich ..............

Okay, before you start invading my inbox with all sorts of grovelling , arse licking, desperately pleading emails, asking for financial assistance to send your Siamese quadruplets or your one legged, three eyed, four nosed, green haired sister for emergency death or death surgery, let me clarify one thing.......I'm not rich. Anyone who still buys a lottery ticket, or takes part in any sort of bet, get rich quick scheme, raffle or lucky dip is clearly not 'rich' by my standards. No matter how much money you have, if you still feel the need to have more then clearly you are not rich, the same goes for those who don't have much money but don't feel the need to have are even worse off...I shan't give you a label, I receive enough hate mail as it is lol.

Okay so I'm not rich, right?.......wrong.... according to Sparkey* and 9 of its users. I woke up to a message in my hotmail inbox. Dear Miss Definitely Maybe, This is a summary of reasons that people gave when asked "Why would you date Miss Definitely Maybe ?" 1. hot (138 votes) 2. cute (49 votes) 3. fashionable (23 vote) 4. rich (9 vote) . Really???????!!! 9 guys would be willing to date me only coz of my perceived wealth???? I mean I know I am an incredibly sexy, hot, intelligent good looking mama, who would definitely make the thehappygoluckybachelor's Stunnas of the Month List if only i was willing to submit my portfolio (lol there is no shame in honesty, don't hate the genes......). I mean I have heard about a gold digging dude or two but 9???!! Don't get me wrong I'm all for equal opportunity dating and all, hell men have as much God given gold digging rights as us the fairer sex, jus as long it ain't no man of mine or my money they doing their digging at lol.....coz there ain't enough of What with my shoe buying and shoe buying and shoe buying? I ain't Oprah n*$$as, I hold down a 9 to 5!!!

I'm not sure how this 'gold digging' dating thing would work though. Do i have to drive him to work then pick him up again? Take him and his friends to the movies and pay for all their corn? Will it be mandatory to take him shopping on Saturdays and pay his mobile pone bill even if 3/4 of the calls are to his friends? Do I have to help him out with his rent, treat his brothers and buy drinks for 10 of his friends in the club? Do i take him for dinner and he shows up with an entourage and I'm still expected to foot the bill? Do I have to buy him Valentine, Birthday and anytime presents that are better than all of his friends'? Am i expected to turn up at his door with flowers and candy or send him on 6 figure sum costing holidays around the world just so i can be labelled romantic? I'm not stingy at all, I'm damn well overly generous with a whole lotta sh*t in a relationship, quadruple orgasms, toe curling 'sutra' , there's a whole loada honey in this kitty Kat and I'm all for sharing (lol don't hate.....jus practice the yoga/pilate's) but when it comes to finances I only have one motto, 'If it don't pay interest then don't invest in it period.'

Truly some of this sh*t is enough to turn a sister gay...... or NOT..... becoz historically women are worse than guys when it comes to gold digging and its leaching practices. According to a biased, inaccurate, totally unreliable and grossly inaccurate survey I carried out (in my head) for every 9 gold digging sparkey using dudes there are probably 900 gold digging sparkey using females allegedly disguised among its 9000 strong black independent women.... So Sparkey if you are listening forget the good man or woman but just send me a rampant rabbit... Date me coz I'm rich??? How about Date me NOT!!!!!!