As Jah is My Witness

I just digested an insult.

I am shaken. Troubled. Distressed. Can things be that bad? Has the world disintegrated into a degenerate, callous, society of utter chaos?! Forget that I'm still in mourning from breaking my fav sunglasses yesterday and I must now resort to decrusting my eyes before leaving the house. Forget that I just realized over my morning cancer stick that I may have to adopt to give THA KID the little brother/sis he's been nagging me about for months, since I may be getting hot flashes before the arrival of Mr. He'll Do. (No, not a Nigerian, that I'm 72% sure of, but we can get into that another time.) Nay, this level of mental anguish is not something I would wish on my worst enemy's dog.

So I was surfing Nig blogs and stumbled across Naija Jams, where I happened upon a picture of Sola Idowu aka Weird MC. Seeing that I was too preoccupied then with partying my ass off during my brief tryst with a Nigerian tertiary education (I have since changed my ways o) to try to find out what the lady looks like, I was only mildly amused when my groundbreaking haircut (which gave wanna-be chicas the gumption to attempt and fail at such a feat in late-1990's Lagos--aptly named "baby curls" back in the day, go ahead and shudder) moved some closed-minded sonofabi**ch masquerading as my friend to comment that I sorta looked like Weird MC. It was my "sexy" tomboy stage, and being HHD (Hotness in Hi-Def), I paid him no mind. But now, the shock of it all...DAMN HIM!! So what if it happened almost a decade ago? The face I had then is sure as hell the same as I have now (plus, er, slight rosiness/bloat) and the wound that wasn't there has reopened and I am going to track down sonofab**ch and redefine his existence.

And if I am not successful, may Jah vindicate me.

Where the hell are my cigarettes?!