Adventures in the Sip Gutter.

Blogging is slightly weird now. I now write with such regularity that the thought of banging out a blog; even a terribly shitty one no longer fills me with the heeeby jeeeebies (autocorrect wanted to make that hereby jeebies. How awesome would it be if heeeby jeebies was hereby jeebies?). I feel like I’m being completed somehow. Like all my unprofessional quirks are being yelled out of me. Sometimes the yelling and the blocking is grossly inappropriate but sometimes it’s almost necessary. I don’t know if I’ve revealed too much. I know I can’t be sent to prison or sued about any revelations I make about the work I do here, because my contract remains unpresented and unsigned. 

I quite like these words. I shall continue. 

Blogging is slightly weird now. I can do it all the time, but I don’t necessarily feel like doing it all the time, and it’s awesome to have a voice (a public voice) but sometimes I don’t really want a public voice. That sentence was punitive. Kudos to you if you made it through to the end. Yes, where was I? I have a voice and that means I’m meant to talk about stuff, and rant about bad customer service. I know not everyone knows that I blog and stuff, but I’m tired. Please. Learn my name. My name is Afam. I blog. I blog for me. I blog for the Sauvage. I blog for Omargardens. I’m not half bad at it. If you do something that really sucks in front of me, it’s likely that I’ll snitch. It’s like a restaurant serving a well known food critic rat shit in his soup by accident. You just don’t! Like, really? Really? Really? Really? Really?

Last night was a really moment for me. I was basically hauled from the right of the Sip gate and deposited in a gutter. It was only one leg, but still, DUDES! Suede and gutter shit don’t go! It’s not like I was rowdy or aggressive, I mean I’m so zen right now that the very idea of arguing with a fly is exhausting. The only thing I did was ask the bouncers why I was gated. I don’t quite like being gated. It’s embarrassing you know? And, it breeds bad blood. Before this week I was working out how I would get Sip on the show, but now, I mean I really want to want to because if you can help the tourism industry at all (the show airs in 42 countries in Africa) then that’s a good thing. But I just can’t get it up for them and it’s a shame. 

This has got to be the most pathetic bad review ever. :(. 

I’m not going to make any grand proclamations of abstinence, but I do not think my spirit or my pride will let me return there soon, and that too is a shame. I guess I could try but I’ll start smelling gutter the second I get close to the building. People shit and piss in there, so it’s not exactly the safest place for a leg to be. It’s really quite terrible. But do you know the worst thing about Sip? It’s that I cannot for the life of me tell you one thing about the place that is even remotely remarkable, apart from the fact that it is popular. Think long and hard about it. Do this with me? 

I eat out, but I’ve never eaten there. I love cocktails but I’ve never had a cocktail there. I really really like Star (Nigeria’s best beer), but I’ve never had a Star there. I cannot appreciate the decor, because it is too dark, and I think I prefer it that way. The whole thing is so nouveau that it might as well have been shat out of Alamieyeseigha’s (he’s this really corrupt Nigerian ExPolitician) arsehole yesterday.

Actually this is really quite dull. I have no righteous anger to summon. I’m really not that affected. I do feel a little bit fragile, but that could also be because I’ve had a hell of a day, and I’m still hung over. Don’t feel sorry for me, I think I quite like being hung over and being at work. These are the stories I want to tell of my early twenties. Obviously I can’t do this very often at all, and today’s a Saturday so it doesn’t quite count, but I hope you know what I mean. 

Oooh I don’t know if I should text the manager the link to my adventures in the Sip gutter. I’m a little bit shy, about it. Do you think he’ll think it was well written?

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