iReport Myself

For the past few weeks, I’ve been meaning to put up a post but I have succeeded in failing, and that’s why I’m here to report.

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It is no fault of mine, blame RIM (Research In Motion), it’s entirely their fault. I’ve been doing just fine with my ordinary make call, receive call, send text, receive text phones until I went and got me a blackberry.

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The blackberry is serving the purpose for which it was procured, & more. The ‘more’ is both negative & positive. However, I am not here to report myself that I now have porn right there in my hand for the viewing pleasures of me & others *SMH*

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I had refused to use my bb for more than its originally intended use, because of its seeming anti-social nature until I got invited to this group. I have been on others before, some I was silent, some I wasn’t, and others I lasted a day or two before leaving, but this group has got me hooked.

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This group I speak about is actually nothing so fantastic, started out as a joke but has become like a virtual big brother house, & now it has gotten me addicted such that I now take my charger to work because before the end of my lunch break my battery has run out.

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Now, besides the joviality and the many great laughs I have on this group, there are some prospects of getting a shag, or 2, but I’m not sure I want to tow that line, just yet. Especially because most of the girls there are just bloody cockteasers & I would rather fuck someone with a brain I can pick, & not some over-zealous third year university student decked with N95,000 lace-wig & looks like Donna Summer (LMAO, bad belle sha) these babes are HOTT sha *wink*

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Long thing, a writer always has more conversation than a chatter. Quote me & sue me if you like. I would rather try to shag a blogger instead; now, you didn’t hear that

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Ok, enough said, I undertake to give my bloggers more attention than be carried away by the flighty fantasies of a blackberry group.

Domestically Official

It was a regular Thursday morning at the office, and we had congregated in one office chatting rowdily about nothing in particular, from the lack of electricity in the country to the hawkers on bootlegged porn DVDs on the streets to nonsensically high costs of primary school fees.

The air was alive with everyone anticipating the weekend and the public holiday slated for the following Monday.

We all heard the noise coming from my boss’s office so we went silent in a moment and turned in the direction of the secretariat. She was bawling loudly and talking at the same time and he was trying to pacify her.

I didn’t think a contractor would be in our office this early or would be over-the-top as such so I guessed my boss’s wife had brought their domestic misdemeanours to his office because it was something that she could do.

At this time, Ify, his assistant secretary was heading to us as we looked on towards the source of the commotion.

“Where is Mr.Ebi, his wife is in oga’s office” she said

Ebitari was at his desk relishing his breakfast of fried yam, akara and fried eggs when Tam tells him to report immediately to the manager’s office.

“Ebi, e don happen oh. E be like say you don commit. Your madame dey oga office”

“My wife?” Mr.Ebi asked with surprise

“She’s relaying all your transgressions to the manager” Tam added

“What? This woman is cruising for another bruising” he said smiling but obviously enraged

Then he stormed off towards the secretariat. We all followed.

We pulled the door to shut it as Ebi entered the office but left it slightly open, so we stood around silently trying to listen to the conversation going on inside before my boss’s secretary, Doris, filled us in on what she had heard so far.

Ebitari had beaten his wife and she seemed like she was hit by a runaway train seeing that he was a very physically strong man. Apparently this was not the first time, in the past she had been almost hospitalised after a good pounding from him. All this was news to me, Mr.Ebitari Peters who wore a smile most of the time, was one of the happier people we had in the department. Unlike me, most of the office folk had never seen him express anger, least of violence.

We could hear her talk to her husband insolently in front of the boss when he refused to answer the queries thrown at him, insisting that she should leave the premises and go home. This was before the door got kicked shut to our faces and eavesdropping ears so we moved away to resume our analysis of this brand new suspenseful episode.

I had met Mrs. Peters at a colleague’s child’s birthday bash and she gave off a certain vibe though there was hearsay about her undying belligerence. Now, it was to be confirmed.

I only hoped the boss was not going to fan the flames of by trying to be a judge. I am far from being impressed by his judgement of quarrels between us subordinates least of all a staff’s domestic issue that has not business in our office.

Tam who was Ebi’s closest friend in the department gave us a sneak peek into the private life of Mr.Ebi, telling us how she had been the most insecure, aggressive and disrespectful wife to her husband and how he had borne it for years.

However, she had brought their issues to his manager, knowing that Ebitari held him in high regard.

Besides my feeling for Mrs.Peters as regards what will happen to her at home for attempting to make a public spectacle of her husband, I sincerely refuse to bother with the consequences of this performance; nonetheless, I am concerned with why this issue should be brought to the office.

This is West Africa (Nigeria) and the society thinks and acts indifferently towards domestic violence than if it was Europe or America. Do our work ethics (if any) allow the use of company time and space for the settlement of such domestic issues?