So a girl who works in Chicken Republic is not allowed crushes?!
Abeg hug transformer. And I’m not playing.
This guy…this guy who works just opposite the branch I work @ is just hot.
As hot as is possible to be with a tummy like his.
But you know what gets me? It’s his voice. Something reminiscent of Carlos Santana several keys lower. It makes me tremble…makes me want to break something.
And then there’s his face. Animated, full of character. Strong jaw. Something that suggests many sons will sprout from his loins – something that hints at a tiger in the sheets.
I blush prettily. Slow down girl; I tell myself.
His shoulders are broad – his chest looking like two boulders were joined together. His cleavage looks –
Holdonaminute. Did I just say
He has a belly, a slight protrusion that mars the perfect symmetry of his upper torso but somehow, hos carriage makes it work.
He walks as though he owns the company. And the way he dresses?!
I know its just a crush – I realize its only to last so long and my meeting him might hasten the shelf life. I don’t care.
So the next time he comes in for some Chickwhiz, I flash him a smile. He looks at me as though women smile at him daily (a clear possibility) and them smiles back.
His face looks like a digital billboard that just came in the middle of the night. I feel like I might blackout any moment.
But its fine. He handles himself just like I expected him to – and then out of the blue he asks me on a date.
“Just a movie,” he says in that trembly baritone of his.
I agree and that weekend we head towards some good times. I’m looking good – I look like I stepped out of Ebony TV fashion and into his sight.
“You look good,” he tells me.
It occurs to me that we might be doing some *clears throat* stuff. Not like he’s been inappropriate or anything like that – it has more to do with the way I’m feeling. So I discreetly pop a pack of Orbit Spearmint in my purse.
First kiss gotta be fresh.
He asks me what movie I want to see. He’s so nice.
I choose Black Nativity because well – its been a while I saw Angela Basset in a movie. So we settle down and I mentally curse the arms of those cinema seats.
What prude came up with the design anyway?!
By the way, if you happen to be retardedly thinking my vocab’s too upscale for a Chicken Republic service girl, I read.
And I’m fly. Kinda.
Anyways, the movie is great of course. He comments about NAS and Tyrese and then lapses into silence. Somewhere in the middle of the movie he holds me and I sigh contentedly.
He smells nice.
Of course, I cry at the end. And I turn to my date/crush/hero hoping for a cuddle and wishing for a kiss – only to find him wiping his eyes and sniffing.
My date/crush/hero is crying too.
Hello friends and friends!
Here’s hoping we’ve recovered from yesterday’s binging! If we’ve not – well. Andrew’s Liver Salt shouldn’t be more than a hundred naira yet!
We have another guest today – a third since we began hosting the blog tour two weeks ago. Today, we’ll be looking at the book titled ‘Awakening Olivia North’.
Awakening Olivia North is a love story… tender, romantic, and sensual. It also says a lot about life and how we should all strive to get back to the true essence of who we are.
Outwardly, Olivia North looked the happily married woman. Her children continually made her proud, and her husband had indeed provided the kind of lifestyle and financial security most women could only dream of. Few of her friends could understand what needs she may have beyond the beautiful house, the cars and the apartment on the Sunshine Coast. Yet there was something quietly missing… a sense of partnership and intimacy, and had been for a great many years.
Emptiness engulfed Olivia after her youngest daughter Lucy moved out of the house to university. With no regrets or thoughts of resentment, Olivia walked away from her marriage, reaching out for emotional support from her brother, his wife, and her daughters. Olivia took stock of her financial situation, embracing an uncertain future with faith everything would fall into place.
Descending the companionway steps to get her mobile phone, she saw the cook busy preparing dinner. The mince was in a large pan on the galley stove, and he had finely sliced onion and garlic on the cutting board. She hugged and kissed him as she passed to and from the aft cabin, saying she would make a quick call to her girls while he made the boat smell so yummy.
Sitting comfortable on the swim step, she was pleasantly surprised that both Sally and Lucy answered their telephones. They must have recognized the call as being from Thailand, and as she hadn’t been calling anywhere near as often as expected, they didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see how things were in Phuket. Sally had looked thought all the pictures, and especially close at the ones her mother had taken of Andrew.
“Mum, I think I can see what Lucy has been saying. Looking at his eyes, I can understand it when you say Andrew is a gentle and caring man. It shows mum.”
Olivia loved this softening of Sally towards Andrew Walker. Sally had been protective, wary, and not at all caught up in the romantic notion of a holiday in another country with a man she herself had never met. Things were changing. Lucy, on the other hand, never questioned her mother’s decision. She sensed something about Andrew from the moment they met, and she wholeheartedly approved. She was the romantic of the family. She too had loved the pics and had been back to look at them many times.
“Mum, that Meridien resort in Khao Lak was a romantic paradise. I adored it and you must have had such a nice time there. Have you fallen in love mum?”
That question interrupted Olivia’s thoughts completely. How could she answer Lucy when she wasn’t sure she had the answer herself? She hesitated a little before saying a word.
“Mum, I’m waiting!”
“Don’t do this to your poor mother. I’m sitting on the back of the boat a few hundred meters off the beach. Andrew is down below cooking lasagna, and the sky is becoming the most beautiful shade of pink. To be honest sweetheart, all I can say is that I am having the most wonderful holiday and I don’t even want to think about this dream coming to an end.”
“Oh My God Mum. I’m crying tears of joy for you. I love you and I love that you guys are having such a romantic time.”
Olivia too had tears in her eyes and saying goodbye to Lucy, reached for the towel she had folded to sit on. Cradling her face in the towel, drying her tears, she sat there looking out over the water as she thought more about Lucy’s question. Yes, she and Andrew definitely shared something very deep. Still, neither of them had mentioned the word love. In a multitude of ways, the word itself seemed superfluous. Emotions were not words, and it was difficult to use words to describe or explain emotions.
I’m an Australian, the product of a conventional upbringing, and marriages to a couple of very different, yet extraordinary women. My life has comprised the normal range of failures and successes, and continues to be a wonderful and enlightening journey.
I’ve lived and worked in numerous places around the world, including Australia, Thailand, Malaysia, the United States, and India. I continue to divide my time between Thailand and Australia.
I personally recommend it.
I’m not saying you should run in the streets naked screaming ‘it’s Christmas o (though if you were to do that, it’d help me identify my people). What we’re saying to you is to let your hair down.
It’s been a long year and if we’re alike you probably are waiting for an opportunity to sleep like dates and time have simply ceased to exist. Sleep, sleep and sleep till sleep itself says ‘OKAY. YOU MIGHT HAVE OVERSTAYED YOUR WELCOME!’
Or something like that.
But sleep. Rest. Dream. Relax. Fantasize. Pray. Laugh. Love. Laugh again. Share. And get ready to live in the greatest year of your lives so far.
This year has been quite awesome. I found out I have another sister by another mother, hung out with some interestingly amazing people, found love when I wasn’t looking for it, experienced God’s mercy and grace like never before, saw new places (which reminded me how beautiful Nigeria is), released another free project, finished another novel, forged a better relationship with my Creator and savior…
And met some amazing people. Like you.
Thank you for making time from none to read my posts. Thank you for your comments. Your likes. Your shares. Thank you for encouraging and inspiring me. Thank you for giving me a sense of purpose; of belonging. You are special in amazing ways you have no idea.
To have someone like you enjoy my work is amazing.
I want to say; I will keep doing what I know how, and I will keep getting better at this gift I’m privileged to share. Some really great things are coming for all of us next year – I pray God preserves us till and long after then. We will not have reason to cry this period or any time else, and for those of us who are hurting, may God; whose peace passes all human understanding comfort and heal us in Jesus’ name.
Thank you so much. God bless us all.
Save me a piece of chicken!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Something more than wishing
It’s more than hoping
It’s getting ready to hope
Good Morning today!
Continuing the blog tour trend began last week; thanks to the beautiful @FabulosityReads; we’ll be looking at a second book; My Beautiful Suicide today.
Scary, no? I think it’s quite intriguing.
Written by Attaliah Eve, My Beautiful Suicide is Cosette Hugo’s story. A girl who’s life is more or less headed nowhere, a sequence of unfortunate events make her decide to take her life. The method she chooses however only makes for more complications…
You should just read from Attaliah herself.
Suicide is selfish.
It tells the world that you are weak. It tells the world your family and friends have failed. It leaves them with guilt that they could have done more but didn’t. It tells them they are clueless and helpless.
I am weak, but I am not selfish.
My suicide will not leave my family and friends with guilt and shame; it will leave them thankful that they knew me for the short time I was here.
– Cosette Hugo
Her brother died. Her parents divorced. Her high school bully is relentless. Cosette doesn’t have a lot to live for, but it isn’t until she accidentally kills someone that Cosette makes the decision to take her own life.
Unwilling to bring shame to her mom, best friend Mattie, or her boyfriend Chris, Cosette decides the best method of suicide is to become a victim of the local serial killer, The Poser. But every time she goes out to find him she gets attacked; her instincts take over, and she ends up killing her attackers. This quickly leads to unbearable guilt. Desperate to finish this before she gets caught or racks up more victims, Cosette does the unthinkable.
“And when I reach my final goal, to meet my brother in heaven, and we’re looking down at my victim in Hell, he will say to me ‘Well done, Cosette. What a Beautiful Suicide.'”
“No, I just want to apologize.” He loosely holds my hand and walks me to my couch. “I crossed a line I said I wouldn’t and you warned me. You know enough about me to know that I’m no boy scout. But I want you to know that I know enough about you that I think I should stop asking questions.”
I hate what he’s saying to me, but before I get mad at him, he holds up a finger. “I have something for you.”
“Do I want it?”
“Actually, I have two things, and yes, you’ll want one and need the other.” He holds his fist out. I put my hand underneath, waiting to catch whatever he drops. “This I stole, because that’s just what I do, but it doesn’t make it any less meaningful, okay?”
“Okay.” I grin at his cute introduction.
“If you’ve changed your mind about committing to me, then let me know now before I open my hand and look stupid.”
“You saw me completely naked. I think that’s commitment enough.”
“Very true, good answer.” He opens his hand and drops a small ring with two diamonds separated by a deep blue sapphire. “This is a promise ring. It’s not an engagement ring or anything like that. It’s just me pledging myself to you. If you accept me, then accept the ring. If you aren’t sure, then don’t take it. I know it’s old fashioned, but I’m an old fashioned kind of guy.”
“I’ll take it and I’ll take you.” He slides it on my finger while I cry. I lunge at him and kiss him. He smiles and kisses me back.
He’s perfect, just perfect.
I wish I could be like him, so loving, and thoughtful, and kind—but I’m not. I knew when I started that I would not be good for Chris. Shit, I’m on a suicide mission and here he wants to pledge himself to me.
“Chris, I can’t take this.”
“What? Rejection already?”
I pull away from him, feeling the vacuuming black hole sucking onto me, letting me know it’s there waiting for me. “I’m not good enough for you, Chris. I can’t take you down with me.”
“What do you mean down with you? Cosette, I’ll go anywhere with you. You’re perfect for me.”
“The Cozy you know is not the real me. You are pledging yourself to my body, not my soul.”
“I don’t understand. You said you loved me.” His voice cracks, breaking my heart.
“Oh my God, I do! But my soul is dying. It started dying a long time ago and keeps dying the more I cross these lines. It’s not fair for me to offer you something that isn’t perfect. I can’t take this from you. I’m not worthy.” I take the ring off and hand it back to him.
He stares at it, confused. “Did I happen to mention that this was stolen?”
I chuckle through tears.
I was born and raised in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Family life was rough with a religious mother and a short-tempered, alcoholic father. (Picture Archie Bunker) My escape was reading and music. I think I was the only kid with my nose in a book during the Air Force Academy football games.
As a teen I was an 80’s new waver with black shaved hair, a pale face and bright red lipstick. I was very self-destructive and always got into trouble. Needing a change I followed my father’s footsteps and joined the Air Force.
During my four year enlistment I was stationed at Nellis AFB in Las Vegas, Nevada where I met my wonderful husband. We both got out of the military and moved to Southern Indiana, on the outskirts of Louisville, Kentucky. I have two teenage boys whom I try to embarrass but have yet to succeed, they have great senses of humor.
I wrote my first novel over ten years ago and was on the verge of having it published when, sadly, my publisher passed away. I shelved my books for a few years to work on our family business. Now I’m back to writing and have decided my fate is in my own hands. And since I hate being told what to do so; I am self-publishing!
Amazon- My Beautiful Suicide
Smashwords- My Beautiful Suicide
Barnes & Noble– My Beautiful Suicide
Where to connect with Atty Eve:
What do you think? My Beautiful Suicide would be fun to read abi?
Stay with us! Thank you for coming!!
It has been somehow living without you. I know I say it ALL the time; and I probably sound like a broken record by now…but that does not change anything. It does not make it easier.
I can’t lie, every time someone says something about their mother my heart breaks a little.
You were my best friend for a while – and I don’t think I milked the relationship for what it was worth.
But at least we made up before you left. I’m thankful for that. Else, guilt would have killed me.
I can’t stand to listen to Tupac’s Dear Mama anymore. I just start tearing up.
I was standing in front of a bus line this evening, wondering as I always do, whether to go home or just sit and think. And then this boy came running, bumped into me hard.
I caught him in time before he careened into the street, and his mother came running up. She grabbed him from me, and screamed ‘Lekan! Why did you do that? Do you want to kill me?”
Mother and son started crying.
But you know what got to me, mum? The boy, amidst his tears said, “I’m sorry mommy. Stop crying. I didn’t mean to hurt you – I’m sorry mommy.”
Mother says, “You know I love you.”
Boy answers, “I know mommy. You love me more than anything else.”
And grown man that I am, I just started crying.
I quietly walked away – and I am walking home as I write this.
You would probably tear your hair in frustration concerning those long walks of mine. Yes, I haven’t stopped.
But I have stopped most of everything else.
Yeah. I miss you, mama. Miss you so much.
But I’m not bitter anymore. You see, God is filling the hole you left; slowly, patiently and with attention. With love and care.
And with time, I’ll go back to enjoying music and smile instead of crying. I’ll be able to watch other people play with their mothers and not feel jealous.
Tell God I finally got it, mum.
It took a while, but I got it. And I’m grateful.
Love always from your baby.
I turn the floppy disk in my hand and stare at the inscription; ‘Baby Shower 09:11:04’.
Wow. I set aside the box I picked it up from, sit behind my desk and hold up the diskette, staring at it as though I can see the contents. Superman’s X-Ray vision or something.
Yeah. The ghosts get bad around this time of the year.
Dust hovers in the air for some seconds as I send them from their abode with a puff of air. I’m sure I have the files on this disc backed up somewhere but I cherish things like this because of the memories they hold. Not the pictures.
This disk represents a moment in time. A snapshot of my life – of life; as it was at a particular time.
I wonder if the baby whose pictures are in here knows what a floppy disk is.
A smile adorns my mustached lips as I see her there; eyebrows wrinkled in concentration trying to answer the question I just placed before her young intellect. After some minutes of raking through files and files of memory data, she’ll look up at me with a disgruntled look and say accusingly; ‘daddy, you haven’t taught me that!’
A burst of laughter turns into a sob as I cover my mouth in horror. What am I doing?
It is the retort that came into my head in response to her response that has me crying.
“Daddy, you haven’t taught me that!”
I would have chuckled and said ‘What have I been teaching you then?”
What have I been teaching her indeed?
That love is a myth? Or that men usually don’t know what they want till it’s gone – and then they spend the rest of their lives chasing shadows because they let go of substance in a moment of weakness? That fear is more powerful than love – and that it makes no sense loving someone because no one is good enough to fight for?
I’m a thirty-something year senior executive in one company like that – yet I cannot stop the water faucet that suddenly opens behind my eyes. I imagine I look like one of those burst Water Corporation pipes, water leaking all over the place. I laugh at my own joke and the tears stop.
I wish my mother was still around. I see her look at me, shake her head and say ‘darling, what do you call someone who knows what’s best for everyone except himself?’
My voice echoes in the dark room as I audibly answer a question asked in my head. ‘A hypocrite?’
I hear my mum’s chuckle loud and right in my heart. ‘Lonely and confused.’
I remember Ibi telling me a while ago; “I can’t stay here and watch you kill yourself. You’re going to drag me along with you – and I…we have a child to care for.”
Now it’s done. Everything – she’s gone.
Or is she?
That’s my daughter talking. We spend time – more time than ever these days, but I avoid her eyes every time I say goodbye. Because I know what waits in them. I know what she wants to see happen – and I’m not sure it’s the best thing for all concerned.
Have I learnt anything new? Am…I…learning?
“I don’t know what to do…” Steam dissipates in the cold air as I stare at the ceiling in frustration.
Mother lowers her glasses and looks at me with a smile. ‘Oh yes son, but you do.”
I shake my head as though that would make her go away. “But…but mum, I’m so scared.”
“But you’ll know. You’ll know – and then maybe you’ll finally have some peace.”
Peace. Where did that go?
I pick up my phone and though it is 1:17 on a Monday morning, I call my ex-wife.