"...everybody in Nigeria, rock rock on..."

- Ebun and I got back in last night. We were in transit for about 30 hours. We had to stay in Amsterdam for about eight hours which sounds a lot cooler than it really was since we were in the airport the whole time. I mean, the airport there is really nice but we literally spent two and a half hours arguing over whether or not the airport should announce over the intercom the name of the passenger who is not aboard a particular plane yet.

It's interesting to think that over the course of 40 hours I brushed my teeth on three separate continents.

- Ok, now here is my official response to the "So How Was Nigeria?" question.

First things first, we flew on Northwest Airlines from the US to Europe. I can't help but be amused by their insistence on using the initials NWA. If they're going to do that, I think they should just go all out. They should use this: "Northwest, the airline that's...COMIN' STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Then they can get Dr. Dre and Ice Cube to offer endorsements. And they can have a dress code that requires pilots to sport jheri curls and wear Raiders caps.

I actually set foot on Nigerian soil about four hours later than scheduled. The first delay occurred while switching planes in Amsterdam. Some lady never showed up to board the plane. The problem was that all of her luggage had already been loaded. For security purposes, a plane cannot take off if a passenger has not boarded but their luggage has. So they had to remove all of her bags, but it took the ground crew a while to find them. So I was sitting in a plane full of Nigerians growing restless and watching the Dutch flight attendants act as if they weren't terrified. At least it kept me entertained.

When we landed in Lagos, I had to go to the restroom and I was making my way towards it, a man jumped out in front of me and said, "Restroom is right this way, sah." Um...yeah, I could see that but I like to be polite so I thanked him. After I had used the urinal I turned around and saw the man standing right by the sink. He said, "Big broda, here, wash your hands." And he turned the faucet on for me. "Here, big broda, dry your hands with this towel." And he handed me the towel. Of course, I surmised that he wanted some money from me, American dollars preferably, but unfortunately he had picked the wrong person. I mean, I had no reason to not give him money...had I had any cash on my person.

Anyway, it was at the airport in Lagos that the second delay occurred. For the first time in my life I was afforded the chance to join in with my fellow Nigerians to honor that time-tested tradition of complaining about NEPA. While we were waiting for our checked bags to come out of the conveyor belt the power kept going out (19 times, Ebun later informed me) so it took us about two hours longer to grab our bags. Actually, we might have been able to leave somewhat sooner than that except I didn't recognize one of my bags because it was completely wrapped up in plastic. Upon inspection, I discovered that my lock and zipper had been broken off. As far as I could tell, nothing was missing but someone had seen fit to toss in a couple of travel packs of Summer's Eve.

The following morning Uncle Yomi took my father, Aunty Elizabeth and myself to a "hotel" to exchange dollars for naira. Now, I had heard stories about driving in Lagos and had looked forward to seeing it with a kind of competitive curiosity. I have always felt that I can drive anywhere. And then I see how driving is done in Lagos and think to myself, "WTF was I thinking?" Hearing stories about how driving is done there does not do it justice. It truly is an art form. You might be able to get a better idea about it by seeing pictures and videos but to gain a true appreciation for Lagos driving, you have to drive (or be driven) in it. There's really no way to describe it but here are a few of my observations:

* any vehicle with an engine and two or more wheels can (and will) be used as a taxi;
* the motto of all these taxis appears to be "there's ALWAYS room for one more;"
* somehow drivers manage to drive with one hand always on the wheel, one hand always on the stick shift and one hand always on the horn;
* if you don't have a horn, you are operating at a serious disadvantage;
* traffic lanes, lights, signals and signs are, at best, merely minor suggestions;
* there is one traffic rule and it is this: "right of way goes to whoever has the biggest pair;"
* the previous point applies to pedestrians as well as drivers.

That evening we left Lagos and went to Ibadan where my mother already was. There, mom began to introduce me to many older people. The transactions tended to go something like this:

MOM: This is Femi.
OLDER PERSON: Eh? Femi ni? Femi Ogbomoso? Come, come! You do not remember me o! I was there when you were born! I carried you. Let me see if I can carry you now. Oh, I cannot carry you! Why have you not come sooner? You do not like Nigeria? I am glad you are here. You are welcome.

I pretty much never got a word in.

Ayo and Bade's engagement was on Saturday. It was long and it was hot but I have mostly good memories. It was at this gathering that I was introduced to many relatives whom I had never previously met. I met my dad's older sister (and for those of you not familiar with the Nigerian use of words, when speaking specifically about the siblings of your parents, you specify dad/mom's brother/sister because when you say "uncle" or "aunty" that can include literally anyone) and it was fascinating because my dad looks exactly like her. I also met cousins (literal, blood cousins) on both sides. I was surprised that more of my cousins on my mom's side don't have the Ogundipe Nose. But that's cool; I now know that it is my responsibility to make sure that the Nose does not become extinct.

At one point different groups of people were called to come out and dance. When they called for the "brothers of the iyawo" Ebun and I went out to show our stuff. Now, we all know that I'm not much of a dancer but when in Rome, right? And apparently I did enough to keep up with Ebun because for the remainder of my stay, people kept coming up to us and saying how our dancing stole the show.

Of course, the celebration also attracted the hustlers as well. There were the kids who were trying to sell their wares, the people who attached themselves to one of the two families just so they could get a free meal and maybe some money while dancing and old women who took advantage of the ignorant. I was a victim of the latter. This old woman came up to me and apparently knew three words in English which were "give," "me" and "money." I thought that she was someone's mother or aunt so I gave her N100 when she asked. But I was warned immediately afterwards that she was just going to keep coming back and try to get more money. Sure enough, every time Ebun and I were either alone or with only one another she or one other woman would come up to us and repeat the three English words she knew. But since I had already been told that it was ok to ignore her, I didn't feel bad doing that. More than anything, I was annoyed that I had been suckered although I didn't feel as gullible later when my mom told me she that one of the fake family members had started to get some money out of her.

I was supposed to go see Ogbomoso so I could see the town and hospital where I was born but time did not permit. On Sunday, however, we did worship at Oritamefa Baptist Church which is where my parents met and were wed. And that night Lade took us to what she called "a thanksgiving." She also said that it was semi-formal, so I wore some native clothing there. What she neglected to tell us was that it was more of a banquet than a thanksgiving. She also failed to mention that there was a black and white theme. At least she didn't mention it to Ebun or me. Ayo was wearing a black dress while Ebun and I were the idiots in bright blue native clothes.

Monday was my last day in Nigeria and that afternoon we went to a market to pick up some souvenirs. I decided to try my hand at haggling. Now I thought that haggling would be like what you see in movies or read in books. He would ask for a price that was way too high, I would offer a price that was way too low and eventually we would meet somewhere in the middle. One of the storefronts had this wooden statue of a man reading a book that I thought was cool. I asked the shop owner how much he wanted for it and he said 12,000. I started to walk off and he called me back and said how much would I be willing to pay for it. And I thought, "A ha! I got you now." So I said, "One thousand." He looked at me for a moment. "One thousand. One thousand naira?" "Yes," I said. He looked at me, then looked at the owner of the shop next to his who just barked a laugh, shrugged, looked at me for a a second and then went back to working on a new statue. Then the guy who had been talking to me looked back at me again. Now, up until then I figured that this was all part of the act. But the look he was giving me now made me think that maybe I had better find another place to shop. So I walked off, trying to make it look like I wasn't interested in dealing with someone who didn't want to bargain but actually just not wanting him to throw something at me. I'm pretty sure that after I left, they started talking about "the foolish akata."

No, as I discovered watching my mom, Uncle Yomi, Aunty Wemi and Aunty Iyabo, haggling is also an art form. You have to be able to read the person you're dealing with, know the value of the object you want to buy and be aware of a good value. It also doesn't hurt if you can speak pidgin. I saw one shop owner treating an Indian dude pretty contemptuously until he said, "You dey crazed." Then the owner was willing to treat the guy with some respect.

Anyway, that was my experience in Nigeria. Just because I couldn't put this anywhere else...there were three billboards that just cracked me up:

1) Why buy when you can rent?

2) Avoid casual sex; use condoms

3) Obey traffic laws

TITLE TAKEN
A Tribe Called Quest (Q-Tip); "The Chase, Part II"

"...nothing makes a man feel better than a woman..."

- Some of the profiles on MySpace fascinate me. It astounds me how many people are in the early 20s, have just a high school diploma yet still somehow earn over $250,000 per year. Why the crap did I toil for four years in college? I should have just hung out with these people. I never realized that working the night shift at Wal-Mart could be so lucrative.

- I'm the head of the grammar Nazi, so I'm already not the biggest fan of internet shorthand. And now there's this new fad where Nigerians type things the same way that they speak them. The mix of the two can be infuriating. It shouldn't take me 10 minutes to figure out someone is trying to say "You're old enough to know better" when they type "ur hold enuff 2 no beta."

- Now, I make no claims at being a sociologist or a relationship expert, but I think I know what the basic division between the two sexes is. Men and women are different. But that's not the problem. See, men are simple creatures and women are complex. But that's not the issue either. This is the crux of the matter: men don't understand why women are so complicated and women refuse to believe how simple men are.

Ladies, I guarantee you one thing. Within the next week, you will come across a man who is just looking away with his brow furrowed. And without knowing who he is, without knowing who you are and without knowing where you and he might be, I can tell you exactly what is going through that man's head.

Nothing.

See, men do that. We just have moments where we zone out. We're not doing anything, we're not thinking anything. We're just...there. But women aren't like that. There's always something going on with women. And they refuse to believe that men might not operate this way.

Most guys can relate to this: You might be with a lady. You're feeling her, she's feeling you. You're thinking, "This is nice. I can dig this." But then she has to go and ask one of those crazy questions. "What are you thinking?" "How are you feeling?" And the first thought that comes to the guy is, "Ah, crap!!!!!" Because ladies, you have to understand that, for men, these are unnatural questions. You'll never see one man ask these kinds of questions to another man. But they're important to women because women are always "thinking" and "feeling." So now the guy has two options. He can answer honestly, which is usually this: "Nothing." But that's never the right answer. His other option is to say what he thinks she wants to hear. But that's dangerous too. Because 92 percent of the time what the guy says is the wrong thing. So now she's upset because he tried to say what he thought she wanted to hear but wasn't. See how that lack of understanding the other convolutes everything? But the other eight percent of the time is just as dangerous. Because now the girl is happy with the guy's answer. And what does that mean? Now she wants to talk. Which the guy never wants to do, but he has to and it just gives him more opportunities to say something wrong.

The simple truth is this: men and women will never understand one another. Men will never understand women because there is waaaaaaaaay too much going on with women that we just don't get. Trying to get a man to understand a woman is akin to giving a calculus equation to a kindergarten kid who just learned basic arithmetic. But women will never understand men either. They actually could, but they never try to learn about men from men. Every time a woman is confused by her boyfriend who does she turn to? Her girlfriends. And what do her girlfriends do? Say way too many things that are 100 percent WRONG.

Here's my final analysis. Guys, the survival of the relationship depends on us. We have to put forth the effort in at least attempting to understand women. Yes, it's difficult. Yes, it can dang near drive us crazy. But if you have a good woman, the reward is worth it.

Or so I've heard. I'm single, so what the crap do I know?

TITLE TAKEN
Method Man; "All I Need"

"...lady don't take no..."

So the other day I was driving with my mom in tow and we had the following conversation

Mom: So who are you dating now?
Me: No one.
Mom: What do you think about [girl A]?
Me: I'm not saying anything right now.
Mom: What about [girl B]?
Me: Mama me. I'm not going to say anything right now.
Mom: Femi! You have to tell me!
Me: When I'm ready to bring a girl to you, I will.
Mom: But I need to know now!
Me: Why?
Mom: I need to know who to pray for.
Me: Can't you just pray for God's guidance?
Mom: Yes, but it's better if I can tell Him a name.

Apparently she had forgotten (or chosen to ignore) my answer to her very first question. Or about the fact that she pretty much discovered that my sister had a boyfriend when said boyfriend became fiancee. Ah, mothers. But I love her for it. To her, it's just concern and trying to get her to see otherwise is as futile an effort as trying to get Public Enemy and Rage Against the Machine to start reunion tours at Baylor.

TITLE TAKEN
Latyrx, "Lady Don't Tek No"

"...I even tried to bury the hatchet man, because we're all African..."

- Just want to take a moment to give it up to my BU Bear cubs. Even though they lost to Oklahoma, they took them to double overtime. Combined with the overtime loss to A&M, we're just a few plays away from being 6-1 (and bowl eligible) instead of 4-3. Even though the schedule doesn't reflect it, Guy Morris has done a great job with the team and they're playing a lot better than they have in a long time.

- Y'all remember when I ran into Flip at the Mars ILL show? Well, we were talking for a while and he asked me if I'd heard any of Late Registration yet. I think my response was something along the lines of, "No way, man. I don't like Kanye West. Yeah, he's got some sick beats but he's an average emcee at best. And I cannot stand his attitude." And Flip just looks at me for a moment before saying, "Dude, I love Kanye West."

Oh.

I seem to recall that within the past year both Goz and Ebun tried telling me how good The College Dropout is and recommending that I pick it up. And I think that I was pretending to listen while actually trying to figure out what was inside the hatch on Lost. But now I've had my homegirl Goz tells me to try Kanye, my brother Ebun tells me to try Kanye and my tropical brother Flip is telling me to try Kanye. Ok, so I'll try Kanye. I found both albums for really cheap (thank God for Amazon.com) and I spent the past couple of days listening to them. And they're pretty good albums. I don't think they're classics; they won't be enough for me to allow Kanye West into the Hip Hop Hall of Fame when I'm its curator in 2027. But there are definitely some ridiculous beats (no surprise), Kanye talks about some stuff and his emceeing improved from the first album to the second. So Goz, Ebun and Flip, thanks for proving that I don't know everything about hip hop. Yet.

- Speaking of Kanye, I remember when he first blew up and people tried to claim him as Nigerian. "You know, his real name is Olukanye." Why do people do this? They tried to claim that Omarosa was Nigerian too. Why on earth did they want to claim her? I guess it goes back to when Nigerians got burned by Nas. Everyone was all giddy because of the thought that he was half-Nigerian. His pops name is Olu Dara. But it turns out he's from Mississippi. He just took that name when he traveled to Nigeria and fell in love with the people and the country. So now whenever they feel they can pull it off, they'll try to claim anyone they feel they can get away with. What, Seal, Sade and Femi Kuti aren't cool enough anymore? Well, I'm here to start the campaign for some African celebrities who haven't received their due credit. That's right, Dave Matthews and Charlize Theron. That's my African brother and my African sister. So join me in celebrating: "Heep heep heep!!!! (Hooray!!!!) Heep heep heep!!!! (Hooray!!!!)"

- I think being African in America is a little bit different than any other hyphenated American. Because when a person sees an Asian, they're like, "Ok, Asian." Same thing with Arabic or Latino. But when they see an African, they're like, "Ok, black." It's almost like a hidden race. But things change once they find out that you're African. It happens at different times for different people. Every once in a while they may figure it out by looking at you. More often, it's when you start to speak. And sometimes it's not until they learn your name or you actually mention it. But regardless of when it happens, once they find out that you're African a transformation occurs in their eyes. At that point, you're no longer a person. Now you're a specimen.

Because people watched one hour of Africa on the Discovery Channel when they were in 10th grade they think that that's all Africa is. But now they have a real live African in front of them to test out their knowledge. And apparently, that gives them the license to start asking the most ignorant questions imaginable:

"How'd you get here? Oh, really? They have planes in Africa?"
"Did you live in a hut out in the jungle?"
"How did you learn to speak English?"

Last week I was talking to this guy at work. And I guess he had been listening to the aforementioned Kanye West. Because he asked me if my family was involved in diamonds back in Africa. Really. Dude, if I were involved in the diamond trade, do you think I'd be working here, talking to you? When I was in high school, I ran track. And people would ask me if I learned to run so fast by chasing lions and tigers back home. WTF?

One of my friends over on MySpace is my man, QD. He's not going to remember this story, but trust me, it did happen. QD and I met about 15 years ago when we were both 7th graders in the Pre-International Baccalaureate program at fair Morningsi-i-i-de Middle School in Fort Worth. First day of class and we had to do one of those exercises where we buddy up and exchange five interesting things about ourselves. I can never think of anything interesting about myself so one of my default answers is that I was born in Nigeria. When QD heard that, his eyes widened and he said, "You look like a regular person!" That was like a Dave Chappelle moment for me because I didn't realize right then that that was an insulting statement. It wasn't until later that I thought, "Hold up..." But to be fair, QD didn't mean it to be insulting. By the way, QD, when's the last time you went by Morningside? That place has changed, dude. Remember the liquor store across the street where all the dealers used to slang? Gone. There's a church there now.

The most interesting story though, comes from Kuli. He told me about his freshman year at UTA when another student found out he was from Africa. So from then on out, everytime this guy saw Kuli he would ask him the same question: "Hey, how come those kids with the flies on their eyes just don't blink?"

On the other hand, you can also use the ignorance to amuse yourself. Like when Ebun managed to convince half of his friends that, due to a uniquely developed digestive system, most west Africans have no need to defecate.

TITLE TAKEN
Hieroglyphics (Del the Funky Homosapien); "At the Helm"

"...what used to be is no longer important to me; it's all about family..."

I am back from Pittsburgh.

Now, I have to say that yes, I did miss the Red River Shootout. The ABC affiliate there was showing West Virginia vs Rutgers. What was that all about? So throughout the day I was receiving texts updates on the score from Tayo, Kuli and Ebun.

Ah, Ebun...yeah, early Friday afternoon Ebun called from Sactown and said that he had missed his flight and was on standby for the next available flight. Then he calls me about 4 AM while I'm asleep in Pittsburgh and said that he hadn't been able to secure a seat on that flight either and was not going to be able to come to the wedding. And I'm thinking, "Ah ha! The old "accidently"-miss-my-flight-so-that-I-have-an-excuse-to-miss-my-
friend's-wedding-and-stay-home-and-watch-the-Red-River-Shootout trick! I invented that trick! Why didn't I think of that?"

However...if there was a reason to miss the game, this was as good as it could have been.

I arrived Friday night and didn't really do much other than find out where I was staying. Actually, I kinda crashed Tobi's ladies only get-together and as soon as I showed up people started finding reasons to leave. Eh, well. Whatever. Anyway, I was staying in this suite in Tobi's apartment building and I have to admit it was a rather nice place to stay. Only thing was that it looked like it had originally been designed in the 70s, then maybe around 1987 someone decided to renovate but then just gave up. But it had a bed and I'm not picky.

Saturday morning I woke up with a mission. See, I had somehow forgotten to pack a dress shirt with my suit so I had to go buy one. And I figured, "Ok, I'm in downtown Pittsburgh, with approximately 33,000 universities built right on top of one another so there has to be a clothing store within walking distance, right? I mean, all these college students need some place to shop, right right?" So I set off walking to find a store. Of course, I was wrong. Within walking distance of the University of Pittsburgh (which is pretty much where I was staying) I could find plenty of pizza parlors, drug stores and laundromats. I could even find a freaking Porsche dealership and a BMW dealership, but apparently kids don't need clothing stores that close by (I was eventually directed to a Gap within driving distance by the very nice people who worked in the lobby of Tobi's building).

Now, while I was out I noticed a lot of people staring at me. Don't ask me why, because I never did figure it out. Ok, at first I was doing the whole southern thing where when you pass by someone you smile, nod your head and say, "Hello." The first few people I did that to either gave a startled "Hello" back or just quickened their step. Then I remembered that I wasn't in Texas anymore so I stopped doing that. But people kept staring at me. At one point I was walking down a street and this Italian guy on the other side of the street stared at me for about 30 seconds before yelling out, "Hey, how you doin', buddy?" So I just replied that I was fine and wished him well as well. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe people were staring at me because I was initiating the looks. I was looking everyone in the eye, which might be a big no no in the Steel City.

The wedding and reception were cool. Well, first it was cool for me to see everyone in Tobi's family in one place again. That hadn't happened for me since 2001. Uncle Sola can't help but be poignant and funny. Auntie Moji could NOT stop cheesing (and if ever a family should put a patent on smiles, it's this one). Ibie is brown, beautiful as ever and I'll be danged if Temi isn't a grown man (I remember summer 1991 when Ebun was nine and Temi seven and they were in the basement watching Friday the 13th when they weren't supposed to. I sneaked up on them with a screwdriver in my hand and screamed as loud as I could. Scared the bajeezus out of them).

And then there was Tobi and Sola. My goodness, but if you ever wanted to see joy personified, all you had to do was see the two of them on Saturday, October 8, 2005. It was like the joy was oozing out of their pores and you couldn't help but notice it. I overheard some people later on aluding to the fact that the reception wasn't quite "Nigerian" enough but I really liked it and I'm glad that Tobi and Sola did what they wanted. This was supposed to be their day so bugger what other people think they should have done. This was the best wedding I can recall seeing that was truly representative of what we are: Nigerian. American.

I was really excited during the whole wedding and reception (I even drank a whole glass of champagne, and you know how much I hate the taste of alcohol). I couldn't figure out why I was so happy until I was talking to If E on the plane back to Dallas. That's when I realized that Tobi is the first childhood friend that I've kept to adulthood to get married. Other weddings I've gone to or been a part of were either people I've met as an adult or friends of friends, that type of thing. But this was different, more special. We'll see how I feel next May, June and November.

Of course, I also started thinking about myself. And I realize that I'm looking forward to being married (well, it's a unique hybrid of anticipation and trepidation). I'm just not looking forward to getting married. Weddings are just too much wahala. But then you have some women who have been planning for that moment every day since they were seven years old, so I guess guys have to give in some time.

Oh, if it's important, Texas ended their losing streak to Oklahoma by winning 45-12. And Baylor beat Iowa State, which means we're probably just a third down conversion against Texas A&M away from being undefeated.

Oh, and I saw a commercial for an Amish website. What exactly do the Amish need with a website?


- Yo, Common's "remix" of "The Corners" with Scarface and Mos Def is dope.


TITLE TAKEN
LPG (Dax Reynosa); "Too Late"

"...you can't have me, I'm too young for you, miss..."

- I am slowly coming to the realization that I could seriously miss out on the Red River Shootout. Kuli and I were talking about it today and he reminded me that the game starts at noon our time, which means that it'll be at 1 PM in Pittsburgh. I don't know what time the wedding starts, but I'm probably going to miss some of it. And they'd better not pull any regional coverage crap. I would definitely have to open a serious can.

Why why why why why did they schedule the wedding for the second Saturday of October? I should probably cut them some slack since they ain't from 'round these here parts. But why wasn't I consulted on this? The year that Texas can finally unload five years of frustration on those Sooners. I know some of you don't understand why this is so important. And if you don't there's no way I can explain it to you. Either you get it or you don't. But the Red River Shootout is probably THE premiere rivalry in college football (I guess Ohio State-Michigan comes close) and one of the best in all of sports. And pretty soon tradition will be altered drastically. Sources close to me tell me that whenever the current agreement is up, either after 2006 or 2007, the series will no longer be played at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas (as it has been since 1927) but will become a home and home, which means it'll be that much closer to every other rivalry in football.

All I know is this: when I finally find a woman willing to put up with me, our wedding HAS to be in the summer. That way there's no chance that it can interfere with college football or the Mavericks season (it just dawned on me that Ayo's wedding is scheduled during the NBA playoffs). However, even then all bets are off if it's during an Olympic year.

The previous paragraph is only about 10 percent joking.

- Funniest lines from yesterday's Lost:

Locke: Where are you going? Sayid's on his way!
Desmond: Give 'im my best.

That cracked me up.

- On Sunday, after we'd done the thanksgiving for my dad's birthday, Ebun and I were standing around and some lady whom I don't ever recall seeing approached us. I don't know how much this has happened to Ebun, but I was pretty sure I knew what was going to happen the moment she came up to us. And as the questions unloaded, I became more and more certain:

"So you are already done with school?"
"Where do you live?"
"What do you do?"

And then it came:

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

And then it REALLY came:

"I have two daughters..."

The curse of being Those Handsome Oh-So-Original Boys.

TITLE TAKEN
Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick (Slick Rick); "La Di Da Di"

"...he took me from a boy to a man so I always had a father..."

Before you read this, I need you to go grab something to drink. Any kind of beverage will do. Go ahead, I'll wait.

No, seriously...go grab something to drink.

Ok, here we go. Please raise your drink, I would like to make a toast:

-Here's to the man who once put his wife and three children (ages 4, 2 and one month) on a plane from San Francisco to Dallas and then drove that entire way by himself.

-Here's to the man who, for as long as I can remember, has been a full time husband, full time father, full time pastor AND has had a full time regular job but has never complained.

-Here's to the man who won't hesitate to put you on blast when you deserve it but couldn't hold a grudge if he knew how.

-Here's to the man who would have his children write book reports for him during their summer vacation.

-Here's to the man who's never turned down someone who needed a place to sleep.

-Here's to a black man who has gray eyes.

-Here's to the man who inspired his eldest son to sneak out with the family van when he was 15.

-Here's to the man who's never met two kinds of food that don't go well together.

-Here's to the man who sees people as people and has inspired me to do the same.

-Here's to the man who has raised three kids to be just as stubborn as he is.

-Here's to the man who has a PhD, two masters and God knows how many undergraduate degrees.

-Here's to the man who has the most erratic sleeping schedule I've ever seen.

-Here's to the man who would come sit with me IN CLASS whenever I had trouble in one of my middle school subjects.

-Here's to the man who has set the standard for me when it comes to being a man, a husband and a father.

Happy birthday, Daddy.



TITLE TAKEN
Pete Rock and CL Smooth (CL Smooth); "T.R.O.Y. (They Reminisce Over You)"

"...my mind won't allow me to not be curious/my folk don't understand so they don't take it serious..."

Random thoughts:

- You always take your reverse gear for granted until you can't use it anymore. For the past couple of days whenever I've had to back up, I would have to put my car in neutral, open the door and push with my foot. I started calling myself Femi Flintstone.

- One of THE most aggravating things to me is being at the mall and getting caught behind a large group of people who are in absolutely no hurry. I'd rather be caught in traffic. I don't know what it is, but people walking slowly just irritates the mess out of me.

- So what exactly is the deal with white girls having booty nowadays? I mean, is it a permanent thing or a fad? I need to know these things. The whole concept is eroding my sensibilities. I just know that if I hear one more upper class, suburban white girl describing her posterior as a "ghetto booty" I will not be responsible for my actions.

- I miss Napster. That may surprise some people who know me, given my stance on CD burning. But I have a very specific stance on the issue. I DO burn CDs, but I won't burn an album just so I or someone else won't have to go spend money on it. When I burn a CD, it's always as a mix of songs from different albums. I also freely admit to file sharing. If I'm only interested in one song on a CD, I'm not going to buy the whole thing. However, for any artist that I like and respect, I will support to the fullest. Not just by buying CDs, but also going to their shows and getting merchandise. But I miss the early days of Napster. At that time, there was only one file sharing network out there and EVERYONE used it. So if there was a song available to get, you could get it. If I wanted to get that rare Fiona Apple remix with Rakim spitting a verse that only had a limited release of 1000 CDs in Belgium, no problem. Nowadays, there are so many different networks, and everyone uses a different one. And then there's the unwelcome advertising and spyware. You didn't have to worry about that crap with Napster. Simple, straightforward design with no BS. It was, man, you know...all about the music, man.

First time ever

First time ever

I've decided to really shake things up and create my first ever blog. I just don't think that the world gets enough of my thoughts. After 12 seconds of considerable thought, I have decided to call it Magusi Soup. It's a play on words, kind of. Magusi Soup is, of course derived from egusi soup, which is of course delicious Nigerian type food. I don't know if I've spelled egusi correctly, just like I never know if I've ever spelled anything that's Nigerian and not a proper noun correctly. I changed "egusi" to "Magusi" because of Omagus. Pretty clever, eh? Oh, and hopefully my writings here will be delicious thoughts to go along with your day.

OK, so random musings for today:

-No matter how tired I get of seeing that overexposed entity known as Beyonce Knowles, she is one sexy lady.

-What the crap happened to the Black Eyed Peas? Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who thinks that Fergie ruined the group. She's pretty talented. It just so happens that she joined the group when they decided to revoke the underground for pop appeal. It's kinda like when Vanessa Williams joined the cast of Boomtown. She wasn't the cause of the show being ruined, it just happened at the same time. But back to the Peas...I wasn't too big on Elephunk when it first came out, but it isn't a bad album. But this new stuff...it brings to mind Gift of Gabs lyrics on "Deception." We'll see if their ghetto pass has been revoked.