Sunday, 27 November 2011

As I Age

NOTE: Before I start, I'd just like to shout out the anonymous reader who messaged me to say she finally understands the message behind my post entitled Have you seen my white chick?' Some readers still don't get it but long-live assumption.

Ok so this sojourn outside the realms of London Zones 1-6 for the past four months has plunked me into a state of nostalgia and retrospective thought. Perhaps I'm missing the endearing frolics of life in the Big L ever so slightly.

Side Note: There's technically 1-9 Zones but what business do I have doing in Moor Park? As for me London stops after Wood Green - the rest is village. Cue boos from the Arnos Grove/Cockfosters lot.

So to remedy the burden I've been going through archives of pics and vids ranging from the Amsterdam Weekender of '07 (salute all who attended - big trip) to birthday parties in '92. Looking back at the good times like some old veteran reminiscing about the war and their long-lost sweetheart. Longing after the care-free escapades of my youth again like knock-down ginger, kiss chase and typing 'ASL' when you added a new chick on MSN Messenger. Sign of getting old I guess. Confirmation of this saddening fact was no more resounding than when I got into a 'back in my day' discussion with this five year old kid who hadn't a clue as to what a cassette was - MAAAATEEE!

Like generations before, I'm adamant 'my day' was infinitely better than any other: music, fashion & lifestyle wise - we did it best but I'm sure the 60 and 70's babies would beg to differ. I recall a debate raging on about if Lionel Messi was the best ever to grace the pitch. Panel members of a youthful disposition were in no doubt. This however pinched the nipples of the older participants who cited Maradonna as a far superior player. DM was probably the footballing hero of their day so for 'inexperienced' fans to overlook an all-time legend for one of the modern greats was a disservice to them. Same with music. Few would argue the Cash/Young Money movement are running tings in the Hip-Hop arena right now. However dare you say Drake or Weezy are better rappers than Slick Rick or Big Daddy Kane to a veteran Hip-Hop fan, and they'll scold you with their walking stick.

Truth is, these things are all relative. The days of our youth are usually a period of discovering our world, our experiences and ourselves. The avid 50's baby story would differ from that of the 90's babies of Generation-X but it doesn't make our likes, dislikes, culture and upbringing any less credible. Instead we should embrace trend differences in that when 12 year old Maxwell stops your Heartless Crew record to play a track from MC Killer MacKill's mixtape, endure the ordeal with a smile if only for two minutes; he'll appreciate it.

So being an 80's baby I leave you a visual token of my juvenile delinquent days. Happy Sunday and all that jazz. Tick.

Stick-up Kid: I played TopBoy back in '89 and I weren't even acting. I moved to this girl at church for her packet of Skips with just my flab and intimidating forehead. She boyd me and only gave me five but I was OK with that. Unfortunately CCTV caught me - got 22 years of mockery for my troubles KMT.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

The Petition


I was escorted by friends to one of Lagos' most prestigious chill-out zones recently. Attractive girls flock to this location like flies to a fresh lump of dog shit but one particular female grabbed my attention amongst the rest. Her smooth, caramel-kissed skin was flawless. She had that au naturel flex going on with minimal make-up and freshly manicured nails to complement the slender blue dress she had on but she was far from a devil. Even her Brazilian (or was it Peruvian?) was on point but it was her bop not her beauty that had me rapt.

The Problem

This chick was staggering like Bambi on five shots of Tequila with interpolations of The Crip Walk added to the tedious routine for the simple fact she chose to wear six-inch Louboutins she clearly couldn't walk in.

It was a hot mess and Nigerians being Nigerians were unreserved in their comments: "See Ashewo wearing shoe like mu-mu, Olodo!"

But she isn't the only one. At Church, in the office and on road, ladies worldwide are falling foul to the misnomer of No Pain, No Gain! No fool, it's all pain and no gain when you end up in A&E for brucking up your ankles.

I don't take pleasure in seeing such…wait…maybe I do purely for comical purposes but that aside it really isn't lady-like strutting like you're being possessed by demons all in the name of looking sexy (well trying to anyway).

The Proposal

So I've taken it upon myself to file a petition for a High-Heel licence. YEAH, YEAH you read it correctly no typo, a LICENCE to rock HIGH-HEELS just like you require a driving licence to drive. See it as a labour of love as I'm tired of amateurs trying to pull off the killer look by rocking killer heels and doing nothing other than killing themselves (or their ankles at least).

Side Thought: I'm slightly high off Supermalt so I may be a tad delusional as I type this but it's making a lot of sense as I do so I'll proceed *burbs* Excuse me.

Rocking heels like driving is a skill (at least I think it is) so I intend putting these measures in place. Ladies intending to rock heels longer than 3inches will be required to take a strut test at the various levels before being awarded a licence:
  • STUDENT LEV TEST: 3-4inches
  • DIVA LEV TEST: 5inches
  • MODEL LEV TEST: 6+inches
Candidates will be required to climb up/down stairs, navigate uneven terrain, dance, run and finally walk down a 50m x 1m runway. Any swaying or wobbling will count as minors (10 Max) with full-on drops, trips, stumbles and staggers seen as major faults and instant failure.

If you pass, well done - tell the foxes and celebrate by painting your bunions with your favourite nail polish. If you fail, its Key Stage Two heels (no more than 2inches) and Primark pumps for you. It's either this or getting stabilizers fitted. The fashion police have also endorsed the initiative tentatively so tell me, have I warranted a signature or just a cheeky slap?

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Street Call by AB 9TRO

This is slowly becoming a music blog but I always seek to fulfill my promises. Nigerian artist going by the name AB 9TRO sent me this track in camp. Kid has mad ambition of making it big like most artists and requested I increase his online appeal by uploading his track so here it is.

*Album art is in no way endorsed by the artist. Design by AKIB Creative


Street Call by pnduoyo