A Guide to Clubbing for Geeks (I think)...

Define Geek? The Answer.com definition of the word is;

A person who is single-minded or accomplished in scientific or technical pursuits but is felt to be socially inept.

These are undoubtedly our heroes. The men who discard social gatherings and common forms of indulgence to churn out new inventions and innovations that makes your social lives even much better. Picture Mark Zuckerberg in Harvard, he never got into any of the clubs or Frat houses. Now his invention helps the guys in these clubs/Fraternities enhance their range of social acceptance.

Anyone who's an ardent watcher of 'The Big Bang Theory' should try and picture those guys in a club scene. They'd be totally helpless, out of sync and rhythm with the crowd and music. You'd be bumping to the BEP's 'boom boom boom' in a very cool way but their poor brain/body coordination would probably make them move twice as fast.

It would look almost helpless but i think i figured something out that could help them a bit. I don't intend to give them a fraction of a typical social life, this piece more appropriately is directed at you, if one unfortunate day you end up hanging out with your geeky cousin or brother and have no idea how to introduce them to the club scene, you can pull this up and read through, hopefully it'll work.

Step 1: the gate: If you're a regular at a particular club then you'll know what the dress code is like. So its best you help him pick out his outfit. This shouldn't be a hard thing to do since most of the fashion world has hijacked the 'geek look'. He'll probably have a pair of glasses and suspenders which could be incorporated into any outfit he plans to don.

Step2: drinks: Make sure you ask him about his drinking habits, if he's not into drinking, you better not give him any, but if he does, make sure he's well within his limits through out the whole night. then keep him hydrated which ever way.

Step3: The girls: (hopefully he's straight): I suggest you ask him to be honest with you if he's ever made any contact with the opposite sex. This is likely the most important part. If his only form of interaction with Women has been through strictly playing GOD OF WAR and regular doses of PLAYBOY then its best you advise him to stick by one rule; 'Shut it' otherwise, if he's in any way good looking then his vocabulary for the night should not exceed words such as make-up and underwear.

Step4: accessories: make sure his accessories do not include a laptop/ipad, soldering machine, frequency jammers & computer printouts he intends to study.

Step5: conduct: He should be reminded that he's not allowed to conduct surveys, opinion polls and that the people around him in the club are not guinea pigs or human testing subjects.

Step6: Dancing: The surest thing to do in the likelihood he wants to 'shake a tail feather'is to make sure he restricts himself to the 1-2 step, no harlem shakes, no dougie, no jerking..nothing.

If you can abide by these 6 simple steps through the night. Things might not turn out so bad after all.

Deuces.

********ONE NIGHT CHAPTER 2 part 2*************

****ONE NIGHT***
CHAPTER TWO


In her mind she was unseen by the entire world around her, this side of her was rarely seen except by her family who she had grown distant from. She sat on the single hotel room seat alone in the room. The lights were switched off and it was eerily silent and cold all around. The floor maid who had brought up the extra bed sheets a few minutes ago was still in the maid's common room telling her co- workers about the woman in room 403.

In her words she was probably a spirit cause she couldn't under stand why someone would want so much extra bed sheets. If the room was too cold which she observed really was, why didn't she regulate the temperature to her liking.

The Strange woman had an idea the maid found everything all too creepy, but she didn't care, all her life she was used to getting those odd stares and receiving the odd compliment. She always wanted something more out of the way from her parents at an early age, but the end results would always reveal a most long thought of idea, sometimes dark one. This made her parents eager and wary at the same time whenever she asked for something. The results not at all times mischievous but most times self serving left them speechless.

There was the time she asked them for a flute. Both parents never knew she had any interests in music or had taken a keen interest in music classes at school. But hoping it was a heart felt interest that made this request so heart warming, they obliged.
The first few days of her receiving the instruments didn't reveal much. She clutched the flute all weekend as she got it on a Friday when her Dad came back from one of his usual out of town trips. But by the end of Monday the flute was gone.
A couple of days later She came home with a nice hair clip finely placed on her hair, this was followed by a bracelet and subsequently other fancy possessions that she claimed a nice teacher in school bought for her. At the end of the second week a nosy neighbor paid the family a visit and went on to causally state that the neighborhood blind man was making quite a fee for playing his flute at his usual spot. Apparently she had seen the little girl stop by the place more than usual.

That venture was immediately ended but she never gave up. From one scheme to another she worked on perfecting her ultimate plan.

Now here she was, sitting in her own sanctuary, thinking about the next move, Justice had obviously ruined things, but what ever was in that suitcase, it had to be most valuable, if not why would she have heard his father screaming at the top of his voice in a most unusual manner. Justices' father was known to be a most calculative man. Possessing a cold exterior that was only exceeded by his precise brain. Something that was responsible for making him the head of the Nigerian Intelligence apparatus for the past 15 years.

Just an hour after she confirmed Justice had left the house with the supposed case she heard him as she wandered down the corridor pretending to head to the kitchen to go fetch some coffee. His voice was almost unrecognizable as he screamed into the phone receiver, most likely at his trusted assistant; "its gone, the brief case is gone!!! what am I going to tell them??? they'll be here tonight God damn it!"

Justice had ruined things obviously, but instead of panic, her entire body was consumed with curiosity and thoughts of larger rewards.
Justice might finally be useful to her after all. There was just the slight problem of 'Who' the suitcase was with now.

She had not factored this into her plan at all. It was going to be pretty hard convincing Dubem to hand over the suitcase since to the best of the knowledge she knew nothing about it. Her plan wasn't full proof no doubt. It was going to be one that would sacrifice another plan she had been executing for over a year now, but no matter how ambiguous the story behind this suitcase seemed, the rewards seemed far greater than making Dubem realize there was more to his girl friend than he knew.

She would have to act fast.....

Why "ONE NIGHT" stopped..

There are times when doubting myself really seems like my comfort zone. Days when the urge to do something is subdued by the creeping and then over whelming feeling of self doubt..."can i really do this?"


"Dubem still has
a story to tell"


I started a story over a month ago, interesting and filled with suspense. In rapid succession i had churned out about two parts of what was supposed to be a 8 part series. The feed back was positive and interesting. Then like i mentioned earlier, without no criticism or negative feed back i began to doubt this endeavor. I told myself i couldn't finish the story or make it as interesting as the first to parts i had put out.

This has always been a stumbling block for me; Myself. The constant compulsion to hold back when i know i can give more. It is something i am aware of but have never talked openly about, with family and friends.

Like i gladly embrace the mediocrity that comes with the desire not to push myself. The sad thing being that i have seen a glimpse of what my potentials can do, but also i have seen the things that my potentials can undo.

Confession is; i lose myself. I become someone i do not like and can never tolerate. The cockiness in me becomes dominant. Everything around me becomes beneath me. Yes, it happens to every one but I'd hate to see it become who i am.

Some might say it is human, some might say I'm just throwing up excuses because I'm avoiding taking that big step or embracing responsibility.

All i know is, I'm working my way through this.

Out of no where, a certain hunger has been gradually growing, a sort of hunger that i have tried to feed with my embraced mediocrity. The hunger still persists. Now i must choose to either starve it to death or feed it what it longs for, what i long for.

We want one and the same thing..

Taking the past couple of weeks to reflect and refocus has been rewarding is only understating the fact.

The story must be finished. I will complete even it even if the only reward i will get is pure satisfaction and a quenched immediate desire.

"One Night" will be completed i assure you.

Now I'm off to bed to imagine the whole story and its destined direction.

#Inothernews I'm done apologizing to this blog. Its mine damn it! I'll do with it as i please.

Writing a letter.......

This is going out to someone i really care about... someone who's come to mean so much to me after almost 5 years of knowing each other.


Dearly Beloved friend,


A while ago you asked me to write you a letter, old fashioned style, even throw in a dash of my very own cologne so that you'd have an idea of my scent by the time you got the letter.

When you first asked me to do it i felt it was way too corny, i even asked why I couldn't just put it up on my blog right here but you insisted it be a letter hand written by me and mailed through the post office and not DHL/UPS/FEDEX.
I initially couldn't understand why. It really seemed corny i have to say again and i felt the early signs of reluctance creep in.

The thought of doing it rolled around in my head for days and i kept on going through the whole process this letter would take before getting to you.

I though about the kind of paper i would have to use..how my hand writing would look like (my hand writing's like chicken foot marks), the kind of envelope i would have to purchase, the words and thoughts i would have to put down, what things i would describe, the things on my mind i would want to share with you.
I thought about the cologne you wanted me to add. The possibility that the scent would be gone by the time it had gone by air and road before reaching you without even a trace that it was even added.

I was worried i might disappoint you, that after every thing, you would find the letter all too bland and underwhelming.

But something kept on telling me to write this letter cause there really was something to say. In fact a lot to say to that effect.

I suspect something isn't just right with you, and I'm not sure if a letter would take it all away. Or maybe it will.

I honestly want to write you the letter dear, its not too much to ask if i think about it.
I know you're going through a lot, its too obvious when i hear your voice on the phone. The need to feel closer to home, i suspect is engulfing you or maybe I'm just wrong about this.

As you await my letter, i just want you to do me a few favors i hope might help;

Go out and see a movie.

Watch the music channel more often.

Talk to your family and friends about the good things in life

take yourself less seriously

Go out shopping for a new pair of shoes just cause you feel like it and meet a new friend

And most of all, see yourself for who you truly are and not who others think you are.


I know it feels lonely out there, but getting through this will only make you stronger.

I'll mail that letter no matter what and i promise it'll be one of the best things you've ever read.

Take care my dear friend,

Thanks for being who you are to me.


Yours sincerely


Griffin.

Thursday Night Lights???

OK! I'm in in the club (not like 50 though) and right in front of me on the floor are about 14 chicks, all sexy and fine. There's barely a guy in their midst.
Well you might ask; 'what's wrong with this scene?' to me there isn't nothing wrong with staring at 14 chicks just bumping their waists to D'prince's 'Give it to me'. but on a Thursday night?! something definitely was off. Then it hit me! Youth Corpers are passing out!
But the scene was eye catching. i found myself always trying to play it out over and over again; all of them looking all tall, with long flowing hair, body hugging dresses, hem lines that could make you imagine yet not see any thing at all, some backless some strapless, plunging neck lines.. it was a kaleidoscopic variety. I didn't even want to jump in for fear of ruining this sight.

Going out on Thursday night has become almost a routine, but unlike previously when Friday would be almost a repetition, save for the likelihood of a change of scenery and ambiance, this time, i find myself settling for only Thursday night.

I seem to have gotten old. Finally accepting rest as a precautionary friend. I always say I'll party till I'm bent. Well, while not fully straight and I'm already giving that statement a second thought. *smh*

Or maybe its just a phase I'm going through. Some of you might end up tapping me on the shoulder from behind only for me to turn around and give nothing but an embarrassed smile in return as an explanation as to why I'm out next week Thursday, you'll never know.

All i know is, I've given my body a little breather over the past couple of weeks.

But on this very night I'm talking about, it seemed choreographed. They all seemed to be bumping their waists at the same time (maybe it was the alcohol)... the short ones at the outer edges of the crowd and the tall ones in the middle. Lady Gaga would have been proud of this sight.

For a while, all i did was watch. I looked to my companions * the usual suspects* : SBB, Phoenix & Mystery. To different degrees of slight perversion we all had the same thoughts. I took me another 12 mins to get one of the girls to dance with me. With her leopard print dress hugging her slight frame, she twisted and bumped, then pinged on her Blackberry a bit. Don't get me wrong, i always find this habit irritating and i immediately focused on another query of interest to me... with boobs firmly packed and thrust upwards with no blackberry in sight i found a rhythmic welcome; she seemed more focused on our synchronized movement.

You should know by now that i love this scene..yet i plan to abandon it, soon enough i hope, before it swallows me.

NB.. i'm still suffering from a few symptom of writers block.

i'm stuck in the place where writers hate to go, that place of internal blankness and

*ONE NIGHT*

...............*ONE NIGHT*.............................

.........CHAPTER 2...........................

Justice couldn't understand what was going on, he had taken the case from the man's study as instructed and had given it the the young stranger in the restaurant who's name was Dubem. He couldn't understand any of it. She simply told him all he had to do was follow her instructions. Now here he was, totally clueless and regretful. He had several ungentlemanly words to throw at her the next time they would meet.

That wouldn't have to take so long since 9:00PM was fast approaching, the difficult part was getting into the room without being apprehended by his Father's many security details hanging around the hotel premises.

Justice had many reasons to regret following her instructions but she had come to him with a valid argument; they had a common enemy and he had to be dealt with.
She was his father's mistress and he somewhat loathed what she was but the chance to exact revenge on every single pain the man had caused him was too enticing to ignore.
In his books, forgiveness was not an option for his Father.

Apparently she had become a slave to the man she had initially thought would take care of all her needs. she had calculated wrongly, her naivety now apparent. Those days she had no job and had concluded tossing her moral obligations out the window of reason. That was when she met his father.

Justice couldn't still see any clear excuse despite everything she put up as her reason for becoming his father's mistress; was it the sick mother in Lagos or the need to keep up a lifestyle she had grown accustomed to while being a marketer for a top bank that had recently cut down its staff strength?

All Justice could see was a woman who was an opportunist and an increasingly useful one at that.

Now she either didn't think things through or he had agreed to go into this plan with out coming up with an exit strategy.

The ring of his phone jolted him out of his deep thoughts. It was her, and she didn't seem to be doing better than he was. Her voice was laced with tension; "you fool! you took the wrong suitcase!!!"