It’s Saturday night in the
Saturday night decision making is not something to be done flippantly. Shall I make it an Ivy League night? Will there be enough Ivy League graduates in the room to warrant my presence? The ring of Brown and Harvard simply send chills down my spine. I love the shape of lips as the name of a college and the accompanying degree spills from them. Now that’s sexy. The only problem is pedigree. Perhaps I should consider a titular night? Will there be enough chiefs, senators, brigadiers and other titled people in the gathering to add legitimacy to my title? My title didn’t come cheap after all. The risks I took…We won’t talk about that. The point is I got the money and it got me the titles. What’s the point of being awarded thirty traditional titles and an honorary doctorate degree if there won’t be an audience that appreciates these finer points in life?
Perhaps what I really need is a “What-You-Got-Night” with a room filled to capacity with everyone and anyone who is ready to play show and tell. What-You-Got is the
“I came here in my navy blue Mercedes Benz. It matches this Rolex that I bought last week while I was in
“Really? I drove my Koenigsegg. It’s a big change from the buses we had to ride in when I was on the campaign trail… with Mrs. Clinton” (Kapow! Now see if you can pronounce that, how much more afford it.) Did you know that I was one of the very first to get mine. The only reason that not one United States president drives one is that they do not want to be falsely accused of diverting money for troops in
(You think you won. Just wait. I’m taking this one down. Ka ka ki omode pa mi l’ayo, ma fi ojoro wo ile) “And would you believe that when a president of a country that I won’t name for security reasons, came to my weekend mansion in
(Touche! Pointing to the furthest side of the hall) “Isn’t that one of our men in green who is now in agbada?”
No. I think I should consider the “Nigerian Party Night” since I haven’t bought anything new in the last week and I’m a little behind on my title acquisition. Lately my stream of income has been more like a trickle of income. Investing in two container loads of Fashion Fusion at Holy Ghost Night DVD’s with the Aswani Man of God and his Evangelical brothers seemed so promising at that time. I say, shame on the devil and all workers of iniquity! All of that will be taken care of in Jesus’ name. The problem at hand right now is where to spend this Saturday night. “Nigerian Party Night” it is! Your guess about the quality of the food will be as good as anyone else’s. It’s a fifty-fifty thing in the food department. It isn’t your mother’s kitchen. Puff puff , chin chin, fried meat and bottled water will see you through the night. There’s sure to be standing room only. The music will be plentiful although you may be near deaf in the morning. It’s your disco among compatriots. It is where street fashion meets high fashion without clashing. Every woman will be a queen and every man a king. Every one will be so important so much so that no one will be important. You will certainly eat, drink, sweat, sway, gossip and have to hang on to your party favors. Your hangover will be more from the yelling over the music, colorful characters and the bling blinging in your face all night. Just remember to arrive on time. Invitations are a formality. Bring a friend. The party begins when the invitation says it ends.