By Ali Baba

January 15, 2009 12:36PMT print email


Before you start reading this piece, I would like you to know that I have not directed this at anybody (or anyone's body for that matter). These are just general observations of a restless, jobless mind. Yes, that's me. I see things, wonder about them, and try to share - just in case I am the only one who sees it like so.

So be warned.

Why does anyone wear white shirts when he or she knows that the armpit area of the shirt is yellow yellow? (apologies to Kaine)

Why? Especially when you have not been selected by MTN to be their brand ambassador. The fact that that part is yellow (as against yellowish) purely shows that your armpit hair is a fermentation factory for sulphur.

Out of curiosity, why do people with this custard condition always want to put their arms around you? They also come to church and are the first to shout, "Alleluia!" not minding the line of sight of the person next to them. I know I shouldn't be looking and judging people in church, but what happened to cleanliness is next to godliness. This one isn't even next to, it's right inside God's house. I don't know the Bible very well, but there should be some penance for that kind of uncleanliness.

The way I see it, you either shave the Bush or stop wearing white shirts altogether. Don't even try other shirt colours. We all know yellow doesn't mix well with other colours. It's a very vibrant colour. So if you go on to other shirt colours, you will end up having the armpit part of your shirt looking like adire fabric or Ghanaian kente! Pay hair-ttention to your armpits, please, or wear a suit. Better still, look for some Texan black leather jacket (yacket if you are Calabar and zacket if you are in any way related to Vice President Goodluck Zonathan).

Another matter that matters if you are in an enclosed place is the indescribable pollution of the air when some nitwit decides to remove his smelly feet from the safe protection and containment of his shoes for fresh air. Fresh air?! You just killed the fresh air! Air murderer! The other day, as we were watching a movie in my study, a romantic scene had a man kissing a woman all over. I mean, allllllll over. One lady dared to say, "You see, Nigerian men don't love like this." God forbid bad thing. Any man who licks or kisses any smelly feet like this will die of unknown causes.

What of bad breath? People who have this serious condition always want to whisper things to you.

No. Write whatever you feel like telling me on a piece of paper. I can read with you around; breathing is my problem. Better still, send a text. After now, una go dey wonder why babes no dey kiss una. Even just blowing a kiss can be a problem. Some cases of bad breath travel by Bluetooth. It's not about just brushing your teeth. You SHOULD scrub your tongue too. In fact, I stand to be corrected. It's not your teeth that smell. It's that backyard of your tongue.

Now there is a reason that made someone sweat it out in a laboratory to create fabric freshener. Please, buy one. Or change your washman. Oh, sorry, you think that place you drop your clothes is a DRY CLEANER? You wish. How can you give clothes to be washed and they come back smelling funky? Improperly-made starch and sour-smelling freshness.

I sat beside one guy at the departure lounge; we know each other from way back. He wore a shirt that was neatly ironed. The smoothness reminded me of inspection at boarding school in those days. In all that smoothness was the smell of fabric not properly washed or well dried. So every now and again, I would ask him, "You mess?" He would say, "No-ooo, how can?" I would give him time and ask again. Until I pitied him and told him. He had the effrontery to say he thought that something had died around somewhere.

Ladies, please, I don't want to expose other things, because this is a blog for everyone. BUT PLEASE, PLEASE! Must your braids have an anniversary before you remove them? Like a friend asked, "Are braids and weave-on pregnancies?" One lady entered the lift from the fourth floor of a 14-floor building, we all got out on the seventh floor and used the stairs. She was going to the penthouse. She was a "big madam" in the office. I kid you not. Do you know how long braids have to be kept on to take on the smell of locust beans being prepared by an Ilorin woman?

That was the day I wished I had a cold. And she is married. How can any man sleep through that stench? I don't even want to imagine his other matrimonial obligations.

Tufiakwa!