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Flaccid balls

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I would like to address a current problem that I feel is beginning to creep into the youth culture as something acceptable, as a norm even.

The thing I love about Nigeria, especially during this world cup season is that although we all knew we were not going to get very far we were very patriotic. We hate our country but we love it at the same time. It doesn’t matter if we haven’t been there in 10 odd years, as long as your full name and/or surname is difficult to pronounce and of Nigerian origin then you support your country because those are where your roots are set. Your roots are very important in the way that you interact with people and behave, if your roots are set in the sewers you will be full of shit.

The issue I have identified comes from the fact that many people have set their roots in the sewers, spouting shit from every hole in their body at every given opportunity. No one has any respect anymore. Respect for personal space? None. Respect for privacy? None. Respect for your relationships? Absolutely none. Nobody cares whether you’re in a relationship anymore, according to everyone else it doesn’t matter. This really confuses me because I’m sure that most people also believes the notion that “if you can cheat with me, then you can cheat on me”, so why on Earth do guys (yes, you guys) think it is acceptable to say shit like “don’t worry it’d be low-key”, or “it doesn’t matter if you have a boyfriend”.

To be fair on the men, some of you snaky-ass females would lead a guy on, only to tell him you have a boyfriend when his trouser snake is digging into your thigh, boxers wrapped around his ankles and his breaths are heavy across your neck. You are she-devils. Apart from these unruly demons, most guys just think it doesn’t matter. Let me tell you now, it does. It does to me, it does to the female friends I have, and if you find yourself curled up on the floor with one ball looking a bit flaccid then that is nobody’s fault but yours.

It really pisses me off when guys underestimate the will power of women too, and truth is we do not make it easier for ourselves. How can a man you have just told to leave you alone, that you have a man already tell you some sewer shit like “don’t worry I can change that”, am I a dickhead? Am I a dumbass? You think you can just flick your fingers around a little and it’s all over, if it works for you, allow me burst that ego of yours, it is because she allowed it work. It makes me anger than Uzo Aduba’s character Suzanne ‘Crazy Eyes’ in the series ‘Orange is the new Black’ with all that head banging you’d think I would have lost all my brain cells by now.

Uproot yourself and set your roots in good soil that will ensure you don’t end up with a flaccid ball. The anger I used to write this post is slowly dying out so I will stop here.

Women, take control of your body, if you can’t not cheat do not be in a relationship, save everyone the stress and save me the blistering fingertips from typing with so much frustration. Men, shut the hell up and find a single woman before you lose your chances of reproduction.



The Life Cycle of a Palm Oil Tree

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hey guys! It’s been a really long time since I’ve posted anything due to exams and shit, it’s been a very stressful break but I’m so glad to be back. I’ve really missed writing, can’t wait to get everyone up to speed on all that sucks and is wonderful about life. So I dabbled in a little bit of creative writing (check out my piece Owaseme on and I got inspired to do more, it’s based on the idea of growth and changes, I hope you like it x   As a child I would watch my brother run around the garden with his friends, picking up pieces of gold near the assembly of palm oil trees from the grounds surrounding the castle I called home. The aim of the game was to pick as many lumps of gold as you can until there was none left on the garden floor. The person with the most would be crowned prince, of course, my brother had to be prince. Watching him closely at the starting line, demarcated by the palm oil seedling, you could see his quadriceps strengthen as he stabilizes his legs, his hands tucked into a clenched fist, his shoulders pulled back to give him room to take in the last breath. As he does so a little bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face, his eyes locked on the first mound of gold bits he could see, he does not weigh up his competition, seeing who he can take out first, instead his eyes were on the prize and he was going to get it. I would get so lost in the fixation in his eyes, the whistle blower would startle me and every time I would miss the push off, by the time I realize what’s going on, my brother would already have a full sack and run around beaming from ear to ear at his victory before the game was over. My mother would have prepared her usual Sunday evening snacks for the boys before they come in from playing games. I would risk being smacked for a handful of chin-chin or a corn-beef sandwich, although I knew I would get caught, I would do it anyway because I knew my brother will save me some and give them to me as we sat outside on the steps leading up to our castle, watching the starry night and luminous moon reflect off the leaves of the palm oil seedlings whilst he told me stories of how big the seedlings will grow, just like I would.   I stood by the gates of our castle low-spirited as I waited for my brother to come out carrying a large suitcase that meant we would be apart for a very long time. I couldn’t turn around to look at him as he walked down the hall in front of our parents, I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face, the features so similar to mine, look so sad and scared as he walked closer to the car parked outside waiting for him. I could hear his footsteps get closer and closer, the stride I admired, so confident and animated, was now lethargic and spiritless. My brother would walk with energy, his footsteps would be melodic, making a beat to dance to, but this time, they were dissonant. They suddenly stopped, and I was brought out of my thoughts by movement beside me. My brother knelt beside me, we did not look at each other, but he took my hand and gave it a tight squeeze before speaking. He said, “Look at the palm oil saplings, look how tall they have grown, just like you. When I return they would be mature, just like you, a bright intelligent mature young woman. Always remember that.” He got up, kissed my forehead and murmured something incomprehensible, then walked to the car. As he got in, he caught my eye and smiled the smile of the brother I loved, that enjoyed running around with his friends and talking about the palm oil trees that decorated our castle, the one we called home.   It was the season in which the gold mounds would pile up under the palm oil trees. I would let them become mountains before clearing them up as mother instructed, that was my brother’s favorite job. He would take his time picking up each piece, rolling them around in his palm before placing them in the bag mother would have sent him out with, then tie the bag and place it by the firewood that lay at the far end of our castle, close to fathers shed. I will sit quietly by the steps, knowing that in a few moments my brother would come running round the corner to catch me with his oily palms, and I would shriek and laugh as he grabbed me and covered me in oil. Today, my brother would not be running round that corner. He had said he would return when the saplings had matured, but now they were almost as tall as the castle, providing enough shade for mother and I when we did the washing. The trees were almost twice my height now, the childish chest I once had was now the home of two rather large lumps my friend Deji had once called jugs from which milk would one day flow from, my body has changed, I am still slim but my thighs are wider and my backside sticks out like a sore thumb, I kept my hair virgin like my mothers and so it is full, untamable but long and healthy, I look more and more like my brother everyday. He still has not returned but I pray for him every night.   It is almost my turn to leave home. It is almost time to leave my castle behind. It is almost time to be given away to a man that vows to love and cherish me forever. It is almost time. As I sit in the main parlor waiting for my father to come in and take me by the arm, I peer into the mirror, looking at the bright intelligent mature young woman that I have become, paying my way through university, earning my degree, getting a well paying job, getting married to the only other person I feel completely at one with and I’m carrying a little secret beneath my beautiful dress. A knock on the door brings me to reality, familiar steps walk through the door, I almost feel the urge to dance to the steps that walked down the hall, such melody, such charisma, and the striking similarity to the footsteps of my brother was bittersweet. He had left us for so long, with no word on his whereabouts, my father had already recognized me as his only child, I had given up hope of being reunited with my brother, but the voice that spoke made the hairs on my skin stand erect, “you’re just as beautiful as the palm oil trees that stand so majestically in the garden of our castle, you have grown up to be the woman I had always envisioned. Your dress is speckled with real gold, not the palm kernels we played with, they shine just as beautifully as you do amongst everyone here today, I can not explain to you how proud I am to be your brother.” The tall man I am staring at, whose eyes, nose and lips are almost identical to mine, who had grown a thick beard, who wore a well cut suit made from fine material, who’s smile resembles my mothers and stature of my father, was my brother.

In love? or lust?

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The problem with being a young adult is that we tend to feel too much, it’s all about the emotion, the feelings, what’s going on inside.

To me, love is a strong emotional bonding felt between two people, it’s a kind of magnetic attraction that just makes you feel you should be stood by that man, being his wingman (woman) 24/7 through thick and thin, but the issue with that is sometimes we get confused between love and lust. It is that same hypothetical magnetic attraction that causes you to want to get that girl alone all for yourself. You don’t want anyone else having her (him), you want her (him) as yours to do with, as you want and when you want, but that’s also how you feel when you love someone too. It’s difficult to decipher and so you end up telling that guy you love him when really you just want to feel what he’s got under those jeans. And you wouldn’t even notice. You put all these feelings you’re having together and decide it’s love, and after a little while you find that the feelings you thought you had begin to fade and you’re wondering how that could be, love doesn’t fade that quickly does it? You’ve already been into her panties, you’ve rolled around on his bed, you’ve made-out for as long as you could, you’ve talked about things that you want to do, you’ve also said you love her, you’ve blushed at his every word, you’ve behaved like a love-sick child but it’s going away now. Why?

It’s gone now. Your body has been satisfied, maybe your mind hasn’t, you’re in a state of confusion and you start playing up, you can’t focus, you can’t seem to understand why things are happening like this and it’s making you angry, all that emotional investment just to satisfy your bodily needs.

Why weren’t you satisfied with the guy you regularly see to satisfy yourself?

Why did you need to invest emotion into this one, all for it to fade because it was just lust?

I know, it’s weird, I don’t have the answer this time guys. I actually don’t know, and I wish someone would explain it to me. It’s something I’d never get my head around. Lust in disguise as love, how do you figure it out?

Code Named: Invisi-Girl

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Hey guys, it’s been a while hasn’t it. Well, I’ve been stuck in Nigeria and haven’t had much time to write since I have been working super hard on revision for my exams coming up. Today I just felt the need to.

 Sometimes I wish nobody knew my name. Sometimes I wish that I could do whatever I wanted and nobody would even bat an eyelid my way. Sometimes I just want to be invisible to the world. On the occasion I get a question like, “if you had a super power, what would it be?” I always answer with having an invisibility coat and/or teleportation. The thing is I probably won’t do anything exciting with my invincibility coat. Code named, “Invisi-Girl”, I won’t rob a bank, because I have a guilty conscience that I can never get rid of, I won’t mess with unsuspecting random people because I’d feel terrible afterwards and I definitely won’t do anything as adventurous as get on a plane and travel to anywhere I want to go, because I probably won’t have a seat and I get really air-sick. So, I would probably sit in a lonely corner by myself somewhere busy, where I can people-watch all day because that’s what I like to do. I like to imagine everyone else’s life, are they happy? Are they sad? Is she a psychopath or a sociopath? Is he a lying, cheating, walking whorehouse? I wonder what their kink is? How different are they from me? Every one of these people is so different, yet so similar to each other, but we all think we are so different from each other. We are all looking for a “uniqueness” that isn’t really there. We want to look different, talk different, act different, be different, but the truth is your difference doesn’t really make you different it just makes you a part of the different group. Because of this want to be different, nobody seems to be himself or herself anymore, but there are some people who can claim to not want to be different, they are different in this way.

 To be honest, I don’t think anyone is really himself or herself. Most people don’t even know who they are deep within them. They have too many faces, too many personalities; they have lost who they really are. I have lost who I really am. I don’t know which face is the real me. So I reinvent, and I reinvent again till I am comfortable in this face. A face that represents the kind of person that I want to be, the kind that I feel I should be and living in that face makes me behave in that way. It is, however, necessary to change faces, you can’t be emotional, and open to everyone, sometimes you just have to be that stonehearted witch because it fits the situation. The issue is having too many faces because you forget which one you really are.

I wish people would stop being so overdramatic about the issue of everyone wanting to be different, but really aren’t different because they all want to do it. Be different, dye your hair, get rings in half of your face, plastic surgery, cut your hair, dress like a gypsy, do what you want to do a long as that is the face you choose and you are comfortable in that face alone without too many other faces that would allow you lose touch with the you, you want to be.


All New Music Video: Chris Brown – Loyal ft. Lil Wayne & Tyga

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It’s been a long time since i’ve posted anything on one song that completely moved me since Break From Toronto. I know there is a lot of talk on how although the video is awesome it is “overhyped”. Stop now because I feel this song and it’s incredible video deserve the hype it’s receiving.
This is the Chris Brown I love! Where do I even begin!? The playfulness is catchy, the beats are crazy, the dancing is superb, the cameos, DID YOU SEE TREY? I love it, I love it, I love it. I can’t describe how or why, it just makes me so happy.
Watch & Enjoy x

Originally posted on Uncommonrealist:

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Leave God Alone

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Sometimes, we just have to leave God out of things.

The other day I recalled a conversation I had with an aunt and I remember her saying something like, “sometimes, when I ask one of the employees if they have done a piece of work or I set them some work, they reply with “by Gods Grace”, it drives me crazy! It sounds wrong, but what does God have to do with it?”, that sparked the initial idea for this post. It’s difficult because it’s a tender subject to talk about, as people always have their guard up when you want to talk about anything to do with religion but here I go.

As a Christian, God is my rock, my #1, but he won’t feed me whatever I need on a silver platter if I just sit on my bum lazing around, not working hard and expecting whatever I ask for to just arrive on my lap. In Nigeria, because of the way in which our country is structured, in that most people are of one religion or another, there is this common saying used after every command, every question, even after every statement, whatever it is, it must end with “by Gods grace”. I have to be extra careful with my words because I don’t want it to seem that I am saying that you shouldn’t go to God for help when you face a problem, what I am trying to get at, is that if you have a problem won’t you try? You can’t be lazy and be expectant. You have to work to get somewhere and when you reach the point where you have done everything you can then let God do the rest.

Imagine asking someone if they collected the right sum of money from the bank and they respond with “by Gods grace”, won’t you just think they are mad? What does God have to do with the question I just asked you? It’s a yes or no question!

Sometimes I worry about the future of us young adults because as we get older and technology is becoming more and more advanced, making things that used to be hard work a lot easier, would we be able to survive when we find ourselves in situations that may need a little more effort than we are used to? Would we become fat and lazy? I dream of becoming a product designer someday, but I fear that my intentions as a product designer to make life easier for future generations may actually lead to our downfall, especially in my country, Nigeria, where people are so lazy and rely on God to do everything for them. My country needs help.


Some Conversation Etiquette

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Before I start this post, I just want to point out that this is my blog. Quality Durex is my blog I, Tomisin, write these posts. The ideas don’t fall from the sky unto this word document, they come from the things that I see, the people I talk to, my experiences, the experiences of people I know. If you find your situation in my blog and you are my friend then well, suck it up, that’s the problem with having a blogger as a friend, at least I respect your confidentiality. Any issue with blog, should be addressed directly at me, not via another person, directly at me.

I can be playful, I can be soft and mushy, a little bit gay but I don’t know how to respond well to things that I deem stupid/pointless/upsetting or just insignificant because my temper is a real issue, so now that that is dealt with. 

Shut up. Why? Because I don’t actually care. If I did care I would have messaged you, called you, dm’ed you, even mentioned you, but I didn’t.

I didn’t forget you, I have nothing to say to you and I personally don’t see the point in starting a conversation when there is no point of the conversation because this is how it would go:

Unpleasant Individual: Hey, you forgot me…

Me: *rolling my eyes* Oh, did I.

UI: Yeah, how are you?

Me: I’m great, you?

UI: Good, how’s life?

Me: Life’s great, yours?

UI: Same

Me: …

UI: So, how are the boys *that disgusting winky face*

Me: None of your business/Fine

UI: Cool

Terminates conversation

This is most disgusting conversation ever.

How dare you insult me with a phrase like “you forgot me”, from the start you have already pissed me off, I will not make the effort to make the conversation work. This UI then has the audacity to go ahead and ask, “How are the boys?” I wish I could post a picture of my face right now but that’s just far too embarrassing for my shy self, but I am outraged, disgusted and upset. Except for the fact the statement in itself shows off your lack of manners, you then made the word “boy” plural, because of what? Don’t piss me off. Its even worse because this is the conversation I just had with an ex I haven’t seen in like 2 years or whatever it is now.

Get some manners and learn some conversation etiquette before speaking to me.

This UI will then claim you as a friend. Friendship works two ways. For me, it’s a relationship between two individuals that work on each other, that are beneficial to each other, are there for each other when needed and when they aren’t, someone you can talk to, someone you don’t have to lie to, someone you can be trust, someone worth having in your life. My best friend is half way across the globe from me, we can go a month without speaking but the day one of us decides this is too much and texts the other it’s almost as if she never left. To me that’s a friendship worth remembering.

I don’t forget people; I just have nothing to say to you. I’d speak to you when I need you, or I feel like talking to you again, if not you can do the same to me. It sounds so wrong to say that but it’s the truth.