Cupid rants..

I’ve never really had a true love story, but I have been close. Like there was this time I was in a cab in Uniben, squeezed in the back seat with Obagol, Edeko and one hot chick. I said hi to her and she said hi too, then she dropped off at Faculty.

I still think of her. We would have had a lovely story shey? Like,”OMG..We met in a cab one hot Thursday afternoon, he said hi to me,I replied, and look at us now, five years later, married…”


Well, romantic though I am, I have always drawn the short end of the stick or straw or broom or whatever. Like see Jeannie, who I crushed on all through 300 level, Jeannie who made me spend countless nights ‘reading’ at H3 in faculty. Jeannie who I only ever said two words to (What? I was shy then… still am even). I now set P with a random handle on Twitter one day and voila! and Moses’ beard! It was Jeannie! Perfect story shey? Wrong. Didn’t work out. The P died.

Have you ever noticed a P dies about two chats after it leaves the DM to the BBM? No? Now you know the true reason why iPhone relationships prosper.

But I digress..

So what was I saying? Yes, Love. I have never really had the opportunity for those stories. Ada that I met in a bus in the middle of New Benin at about 9pm and escorted back to Ekosodin at the risk of life and limb,only to find out that she had just transferred to my class. Coincidence? No such thing. Did the P work? No.
(._. )

I could count on many fingers the amount of P set and lost. Maybe it’s me. Shey?

But not to bore us this evening.

Today,I want to talk about how I, who had no prior Val as at 3pm yesterday was confronted with two today and is sitting alone on the floor in his room writing about failed Ps. The luck of the draw shey? Maybe.

When I was younger, I used to dream of how in time soon to come I would be on an adventure and meet the girl of my dreams. We would race through the Amazon jungle and around poisonous reptiles and beasts, being chased by gold-digging, nuclear-armed thieves and assassins with a plan to take over the world, while deciphering ancient secrets and magic portals along the way.
Then we would have kids who will be tall and handsome and strong and smart and then we would have other adventures together and have books and movies named after us, starring us e.t.c. And yeah, we’ll dine with the Queen and they’ll make me a Lord and I’ll have a Ferrari and a Bentley and I’ll meet James Bond face to face.

Hi, my name is Janus, I dream.

The truth here is, when I started this post, I had a point, a message I had to get across. Like, I was on Twitter, following the #RosesareredVioletsareblue trend and trying my best to reason out the most sardonic rhymes (and failing), when I suddenly had a strong urge to write. A biting need it was, blinking on and off in my subconscious, propelling me to put pen to paper. Or maybe it was the blinking yellow light off my low battery indicator. Either way, I got off the bed, sat on the floor and began to write and now, that need is gone.
(._. )

( ._.)


This is the point where I say something funny to round off the post, write a disclaimer and urge you to follow me on Twitter @janus_aneni and then wish you Shalom or something.

But, nah…




Truth is, she took off her top and inspiration’s taken a new turn.. So err..


I was talking about a car.

I did say ‘Shey’ too many times in this post…shey?

NB: thanks to @Ebubay and @Obee_007 for this.

Follow on Twitter @Janus_aneni



Back from Tai

I am back. After three weeks, I am returned. (not a gbag!) 

This is usually the part where I explain the post, say something slightly funny, plug in my earphones and start the post, but Pat is talking nonstop beside me and you know how impossible it is to be creative when a Bini geh is yammering in your ear.


a Bini geh..


#np (……………………) *Pat puts off the music*


Before I went to camp, I asked @exchicano assuming that since he was currently serving he would be in the best position to tell me all about camp life, the service year and all it entails. He did answer my questions. According to him, life in camp was drills, parades and mammy. So on that day, 3rd of July, after navigating the entire Rivers state in search of Nonwa-gbam Tai (that’s where the camp was located), I arrived camp entirely sure of myself, after all my instructions were simple; don’t join any committee, never march well so you won’t parade and for God’s sake always pretend to be sick so you don’t drill. Also, stick to mammy food.

Simple enough shey? Okay..

Truth be told, it might have proved impossible to find the camp that day if I had not spied two uniformed corpers strolling around Eleme junction like a pair of dejected souls. Offering them a ride, they then provided me with adequate directions to the location of the camp. According to one of them, Bidemi or something was his name; “The camp might not turn out to be what you expect oh!” I smiled and remembered @exchicano’s pix from camp, seeing the paved roads, neat well-cut fields and clean hostels. Buttie children, they don’t know beta thin sef, I thought to myself. “Don’t worry,” I told the man. “It might turn out to be better than I even expect.” Bidemi just grinned and said nothing.

I should have known.


I have a picture of exactly how my face looked when I saw the camp for the first time.

not me..but close

What I saw that day was a collection of half-rundown buildings interspersed within grass high enough to hide an elephant ménage a trios! Suffice to say, Mama Aneni bore no dull children, so sharply, my Ijanikin instincts kicked in, after all I’ve been through worse shey?

I fell sick by the third day. I was in the clinic on the fourth. Not malaria oh, mind you, but something the doctors termed colitis, in common English we call it diarrhea. But I skip ahead of myself, let’s tell this tale in sequence.

I got my accommodation space in a hostel, an ‘executive’ room about the size of a room in Hall 3, Uniben with seven other men. You know what they say about profiling, I agree with them. The man wearing the ‘Christian brother flannels’ was a recent graduate of Engineering and the guy in skinny jeans was married with a kid. Then the one who I suspected of being gay, well…wasn’t gay, if I am to believe her, and the most innocent looking of them, smoked weed every night. It felt like home.

Until a snake was killed less than 5ft from my bed.


Yes, a snake.

A snake.

I hate snakes.

Before being posted, I prayed a lot about where the call-up letter would send me. Mostly, my prayers were “Please not Igboland, amen!” so when I saw ‘Rivers’ in the letter, I was happy and joyful and glad and ecstatic. There is something to be said about Kalabari girls, whether the world would admit it or no, and I was heading in their direction. I have been wrong before.

Do you know it is an established fact that, the more Ibo you speak the better your chances of uhm…becoming uhm..friends with an Ibo girl? I speak a smattering of Ibo, so maybe my chances were great considering the amount of Ibo girls in the camp shey? Wrong! On my second day on camp, a fellow was telling me something about the registration and suddenly he switched to Ibo!! Like TF!! What do I look like? Chibuzor Mba??!!! All my attempts to tell him, “Uhm..bro, I don’t speak the lingo” were abortive! Hell, the dude probably thought I was speaking Ibo back to him, and simply raised his voice to continue. So I just kept quiet and listened.

Of the people in the camp, 90% were Ibo, 98% understood the language, and nobody cared about the minority. I suddenly felt like Jonathan, without shoes.

When I look back though…

looking back…

I learnt the azonto, etighi and writing to you now is an accomplished uhm…salsa dancer! Dr Jenny and Nolz, silence please, thank you. Yes, I just couldn’t be in the social committee without learning something, right? Right? *sigh*

I do miss the camp sha, and the people there. My platoon commander, Cap’n Cabin, who kept marveling how a ‘Doctor’ could have time for social activities and why I was never in the clinic, the chap who was chyking me, all the peeps at the N.G.T. crew!, my Camp gossip partner and shield from the evil clutches of Ikwerre gehs, the R.S.M whose voice I still hear in my dreams, (that man deserves a theme song sha) etc, etc.

So, I got posted to a secondary school. Gotta teach them SS2 biology. *evil cackle*

oh yeah…



  • I am not a pedophile.
  • Ijanikin is, was, my alma mater; Federal Govt. Coll. Ijanikin Lagos.
  • That was really a picture of a bini geh
  • I do not know anybody called Chibuzor Mba
  • Blame whatever weirdness of the post on Pat.

Nuff said..

ff me on twitter @janus_aneni


Forth Eorlingas!

The title comes from one of my all-time favorite movies; The Lord of the Rings. And it bears no significance whatsoever to this post.

U ssssure…?

This post should not count as a rant. If anything, let it sound more like a dirge. (Dirge = a song of mourning or lament).

A dirge

Anyways, I’ll be heading to camp tomorrow. Yes oh! NYSC camp, GOD has done it! When the Enemy said I would not go for Camp, Chineke said it! I must go! Biko, help me koro Jesus aka!

No, I will still not date an Ibo girl.

I remember the day I wrote the PUME for Uniben. I had been having terrible ‘visions’ all through that week. You know, the dark kind, all full of smog, and blood and death. So, naturally, as a very observant guy, I realised that the good LORD was trying to inform me that I would die on my way to the exam hall or venue or place or whatever. So I stopped reading, there was no point na, I was gonna die anyways, so why bother. On the day of the exam, my Tati, our ever vigilant prayer warrior and my fave Aunt, kabashed over the exam, examiners, the paper, my pencil etc. remaining small, I would have carried an oil-soaked pen to the hall that day. As it was, only my forehead was uhm…  -____-

Anyway, while my Tati prayed, I kept thinking of how I was gonna die: you know, if it would be fast or slow; if my life would flash before my eyes in slow-mo or fast play etc. You know, you have to think of these things.

It rained that morning, so it was obvious there was going to be a big time traffic jam at the main gate, so my mum offered to drive me through the by-pass so we could avoid the jam. (jam= go slow).

There we were, speeding down the smooth, slick roads, doing 120km/h, when the car skid.


Well, GOD keeps his children, and my mum is Jason Statham in a hairnet. Sharply, she righted the car and kept speeding!

Mum: “These my tyres are completely worn”

Me: o_O !!

At that moment, I realised my dream was about to come to pass. So, in an utter show of love and total abandon of self-preservation (self-preservation = not fighting with Bini girls), I decided to ensure I die alone. So it was that I grabbed the door handle, and prepared to launch myself out the door if the car should skid again. Better I jump out and die, and let Death be satisfied, than to take my precious Mama with me.

This was five years ago, and the car never skid again…

…until I drove it.

But that’s a tale for another post.

Well, today, I have reached another stepping stone, so to speak, and as it was not to long ago, I am torn by waves of trepidation. (Trepidation = CB’s thoughts as the Drake bottle flew closer). Like some poltergeist on steroids, the specter of something bad just seems to hang in the offing. But someburry say, GOD dey!



Mscheew..*closes laptop and walks away*

*comes back to publish post, and walks away again* (˘̯˘ )


  • I can end a post any way I like
  • No offence to Bini and Ibo gehs..

ff on twitter @janus_aneni


Just another rant

Do you know that Chuck Norris once threw a grenade, and fifty people died. Then the grenade exploded.

A Chuck Norris venture

In an attempt to be more like Chuck Norris I relaxed my hair.(another failed attempt)

#np Kukere – Iyanya

*plugs earphones to laptop..too loud..unplugs earphones..too loud..stops music*

This is probably going to be my first real rant on this blog. I said probably because I’m just scribbling as usual and I don’t know how this would turn out. Ok, so this week has been so last week (today is Monday shey?) was weird and lonely. I was phoneless (yeah, my precious Adaora, after six months of good times decided to leave me for the warmth of another) and that sort of shuts you off from the rest of the world. No music, no constant internet connection, no nothing. Just me and Jack, my trusty Nokia torchlight phone. I was sad I tell you, sad, very sad. I was so sad, I watched a Nollywood movie.

So sad, I watched Legend of the Seeker again.

“No, you did not..”
“Yes he did”

Anyway, like a bawse, I kick-started my grind and got my humour back, and it was like everything was moving smooth again. Then Drizzy hit an Omota.

How did the fight start?

“We found love – Rihanna” was playing on the big screen TV (trust me, this is from an inside source) and Drake said: “That nigga don’t even look like Chris”


Chris: “He does!!”
Drake: “DOES NOT!!”

So CB said: “Pass the bottle juh! (he had been watching Muina of recent), and Drake passed it.

*now playing “Mu bottle ye wa – 4th Republic*

Youths these days..smh

Anyway, the events saddened me sha, like, Ri-ri will be chilling and two of my faves are throwing bottles at each other. And now, (according to my source) she has her eyes set on Chris Martin (lead vocalist, Coldplay for the uninformed), what does she want with him sef? Abeg he is married oh! to Gwyneth paltrow (from Iron man and The Avengers ) for that matter, chick don’t take no shii.. But what does she want with Chrises sef? Are Chrises that hot? What is it about a Chris that just attracts hot, rich celebrities? I think we should get to the bottom of this matter! It’s no longer funny!! *Drivers license with name: ‘Chris Aneni’ falls out of pocket*


So I paid a visit to Sirkastiq’s blog and read the zoning uhm…zones on there. Combined with the iinsight being passed down by renowned Professor Xavier (no, not the X-men version), I figured out that once again, I have been zoned into a completely novel zone. The story zone. Yes! You know yourselves! I would not mention names, but you Dinma and you Ify that have zoned me to story zone, God is watching you! All of you that remember me only for stories, the day I will get serious writer’s block ehn, it will over you!*breathing heavily* what rubbish! Getting me all agitated*sips Hollandia*

Been there…
The lies we let ourselves believe..been here too

So you know those myths of how when you’re sneezing it means someone is talking about you? It is true oh! Every single time I have sneezed in the past week, someone has been talking about me. Which is quite worrying right now, considering that I am sneezing as I write this, and the time is 12:34am. Every coven and winsh that dares to call my name, Holy Ghooossss…!!! Anyway, it works. And I’m sure you’ve also heard (at least my Aunt has) that if your right palm is itching, it means a lot of money is coming your way.*shrug* I don’t care for such.(˘̯˘ )/`(*secretly dips hand…and leg inside bowl of ‘devil beans’)

So I have run out of stuff to rant about, leave your comments in the box..boxes.

Darris all…


  • I will not disclose my BreezyDrizzy source
  • ‘Devil beans’ (I do not know the scientific name) causes itching allergies
  • Adaora is…was my phone
  • Been muttering Rihanna’s name for the past hour and uhm..if tomorrow, she uhm..comes down with a bad flu it is not me!

ff on twitter @janus_aneni