The YorubaGirl Annual – 2009

It can’t have escaped your notice that 2009 is drawing to a close, and with all this ice and snow, it seems to be doing so with a bit of a bang. Which is only appropriate, as this is the year I started this here blog, and despite the many chances for it to go awry, I’m still going strong! That’s a celebration in itself (for me, at least). My love of telly and all things related is fairly well documented, and as such, I’ve decided to cast a fond eye over the output of the blog in 2009  – even though it started in April – in a classic end-of year TV special style. Come aboard with me, as I take you into the world of YorubaGirl and the fantastic journeys we have taken together this Annus Mirabilis. In simple terms, my (and your) fave blog posts of 2009.

Why I Love… Mascara

My mother had an amazing selection of what, with hindsight, was really rather superb maquillage. Pots and potions and tubes of colour, all expertly applied by my mother’s steady hand. Some women love makeup. They start their careers as little girls in the makeup bag and never really crawl out of it ever again. Little girls weren’t necessarily encouraged to paint their eyelids and rouge their cheeks in early 90s Nigeria, and anyway, when I was 11 years old, I went away to an all girls’ boarding school. Even if I had been interested in makeup, I would’ve been denied – the prefects worked on special search and destroy missions. But now, at the grand old age of 27, I have reached a magical place; I’m still ambivalent towards most of the makeup canon, but I can definitively say that I love mascara.

YorubaSis – A Birthday Tribute

Apparently, my big sister wanted me to be a boy. She enquired with her two-and-half year old lisp, “When can I thee my baby bwuther?” over and over until she and my dad were brought through to gaze upon my bad-tempered newborn face. There is no family story that details her subsequent disappointment at my gender. Her unconditional love for me, through my demanding childhood years, my oh-so-prickly prepubescence and my far-too-sensitive teenage years into adulthood is why I’d like to dedicate this post to YorubaSis, 30 years old ths week, and truly a queen among sisters.

It’s A Man’s World*

I can’t be the only woman/writer/blogger/internet user/feminist who read the story of James Chartrand this week and then commenced a lengthy – but ultimately unsatisfying - headdesk session, right? For those still in the dark, James is the owner of Mens with Pens, a successful company founded in 2006, which provides web design and copywriting services, amongst other things, for businesses. So far, so nondescript. What’s the biggie? Well, it emerged this week that James was in fact a woman. You know, a real one, with a vagina and breasts. And here’s the kicker, ‘James’ revealed that she’d noticed something when she changed her name to the more obviously masculine moniker. She says: “Customer satisfaction shot through the roof. So did my pay rate.” Gaaaah! This is why I’m a feminist!

“She’s Sensible. He Just Loves Fame.”

Overheard on a train to Ilford, between two ladies of a certain vintage.

“Whatever happened to Richard and Judy?”

“Well, Judy’s writing a book, ain’t she? Cos she’s sensible. But that Richard” – shakes head – “he just loves fame. Their daughter, too.”

Uttered as fact, and lapped up by a shamelessly eavesdropping YorubaGirl.

Why I Love… Socks

Of all the exciting things I could be declaring my love for – unicorns! Fire! KNIVES! – I have chosen socks. Comfy, boring, ideal-Christmas-present-for-the-near-dead and completely useful socks. I am probably the only person I know who loves receiving socks for her birthday. I stand by my decision though, because even boring items of clothing need love.

Tiny Venues & Interesting Loos

It’s very easy to bash the great city of London. To be fair, there’s quite a lot to bash if you’re that way inclined – it can be dirty, smelly, expensive and sometimes, it’s so far up its own trendy backside, you can actually taste pavement. Occasionally though, you go out, you have a great night, and then fall rapturously back in love with London. Take last Friday, for instance.

Why I Love… Christmas Telly

For many, Christmas is exemplified by the consumption of alcohol before noon. People roll out of bed and keep on rolling straight into the booze cabinet – Champagne, Port, Brandy, Gin, hold the tonic – emerging only to leisurely swallow their own weight in meat and vegetables, before resuming the imbibing or yet more alcoholic stimulants. It’s a longstanding tradition for many, and a fine one it is, too. For me though, the countdown to Christmas only really begins with the onset of ‘Christmas telly’.

Woof!

Lynda Bellingham, known to my generation primarily as the Oxo Mum, but now a regular on Loose Women and a Strictly Come Dancing contestant, is a bit of an unlikely role model for me. I’ll tell you why. While interviewing someone on the aforementioned – and by the by, utterly atrocious – Loose Women, she delivered a fine line in confident, grown-up flirtiness that I can only aspire to. The (male) interviewee stopped mid-answer to say to her something along the lines of: “Your voice is so husky, it could pull a sled.” Quick as a flash, Lynda leaned in slightly and replied, in her trademark throaty almost-baritone, ”Woof”. Reader, I do declare, I duly fainted. That’s what flirting is!

The Texan Cowboy Billionaire’s Secret Love Child. Or Something.

Oh, the shame! The hot, searing, secret shame! I love something that I really, really shouldn’t. Ready? 

*Deep Breath*

I love Mills and Boon books.

I luuurve them. I love them like Penelope loves Odysseus. I love them like bees love pollen. I love them like Ross loves Rachel. I love them like a fat kid loves cake. It’s an epic, primal love. Don’t look at me, I’m hideous!

All Singin’, All Dancin’

Many years ago, my sister took me along to a comedy showcase at one of the most fantastic, diverse and yet criminally underrated theatres in London, Theatre Royal Stratford East [Gerry Raffles Square, E15]. That evening, we sat in the packed audience, enjoying the comedic talents of Geoff Schumann, Curtis Walker and I think a young(er) Richard Blackwood, though I can’t be sure on that last one. One thing I do remember though, was something Curtis Walker said. Playing to a predominantly Black crowd, he joked about how easily we (as a race) will respond to a drumbeat or a handclap – pretty much any rhythmic sound.

Check Me Out!

I’ve been a bit quiet recently, and for those of you who enjoy reading my posts, I imagine it’s been an annoyance. Unfortunately, this silence will probably continue for the forseeable future, and this is down to two separate issues. One, I’m working on a freelance job till Christmas Eve. It means I can afford to pay rent and buy a few Christmas presents for my family, but it does take me away from the blog somewhat. Two, my laptop’s crapped out on me. As is always the case, it’s illness was swift and unforseeable. Initial diagnostics suggest a massive outlay of cash, but tis the season for giving (to your local laptop engineer, at least).

In the meantime, I’ve been featured as Blogger of the Month over on The Musings of Ondo Lady, which you can check out here. I’m ver’ ver’ excited – my first interview as a blogger! Show me (and Ronke) some love and click away, kids. I’ll try and blog as often as I can, but make no promises. If you’re not already a subscriber to this here blog, do it now! Either way, check in as often as you can, okay?

Back soon,

YorubaGirl