Kicking my own arse

    Do you have a googleganger? Similar to a doppleganger, a googleganger is another individual who has the same name as you and as a result their records and/or internet history, pictures and stories always come up, mixed in with yours whenever you Google yourself.
    Aside from receiving absolute proof that someone in this world is walking around answering to your same, there is also the possibility that (GASP!) said other you has a more awesome life than you you.

inconceivable

    There are a few things that can get you into this predicament
    1. When your parent/grandparent is your ganger. If you go by ‘Junior’ or ‘The Third,’ Google is probably not your biggest problem. I suggest you muddy the lines between you and your forbearer, especially if you look exactly like them. The Google machine will then meld you into one person. If that fails claim reincarnation. So their achievements are your achievements from a former life. Own it and hone your argument because people will try and punch holes into this sieve of an argument.
    2. Coincidence… I think not, but have no proof to the contrary.
    3. When you are named after them, things can go, one of two ways. If it is a kindly aunt who can barely use her pure water phone, Awesome! Continue to kick her Google butt. As long as she goes on to do unremarkable newsworthy things, like not inspiring an award winning book that gets turned into movie with a spinoff TV series, thus causing her to tour the world giving inspirational speeches, then you are safe. However if you are named after a celebrity, who shares your family last name, you are screwed. The only day you will top them in a google search would be on the one occasion when you are convicted of murdering your famous namesake.
    A middle name helps provided you don’t also share your middle name and are hopefully not a three named serial killer.
    Let me just take this time out for a Public Servie Announcement. My fellow country men and women, when you introduce yourself, please do not say “my names are,” because although your names are many (I have four names, five nicknames, an oriki and an oriki song. . . I’m not entirely sure what the song is about), regardless, the combination of names is singular and hopefully unique to you. The correct introduction is, “My name is…” and to the next dumb wiseass who invariably tries to tell me how wrong I am, know this:
    1. I’m never wrong.
    2. Whenever you introduce yourself by saying “my names are” I proceed to disregard what any of the yous speaking is saying.
    3. At the end of the day, it does not matter who your googleganger is, all that matters is that when they Google themselves they are completely assaulted by the awesomeness that is you.
    To further explain my point about the uniqueness of names, I once tried to reference how in magic, things have true names like in the Dresden files, but the only thing that achieved was people accusing me of witchcraft and a few requests for love portions.
    Here are classic cases of people who will probably never out ganger their googlegangers.
    4. All the Sarah Johnsons out there: 80 % chance. I know about five Sarah Johnsons and no right now it’s anybody’s game.
    3. University of Texas student, Sarah Palin: 50 % chance. This lady has age on her side, she’s about 22 and given time and the right moves, fame or infamy might be able propel her over her namesis (name + nemesis)
    2. American ornithologist, Caribbean bird expert and author, James Bond: .5% chance. In the words of Ian Fleming, “I wanted the simplest, dullest, plainest-sounding name I could think of. James Bond seemed perfect.” He found the name sitting on his bookshelf in the author of a book entitled “Bird’s Of The West Indies.” The best he can hope for is to be the correct answer on “Jeopardy”, “The weakest link” (is that still on) or “Who wants to a millionaire”. He passed away in 1989, so there is very little chance that he will ever out do his namesy. I mean cloning is an option, but in my book that makes whatever he achives the victory of the scientist who cloned him as well as his clone. #JustSaying. Besides 23 movies prove that even when you expect him to die, you can’t kill James Bond.
    1. Daughter named by fans Oprah Winfrey: Her chances would be better in an alternate dimension. Why? Because Oprah is the gift that keeps on giving, eliminate her and you still have Oprah Winfrey Street, the National Child Protection Act, aka the Oprah Bill, not to mention “Oprahfication”, a term coined by The Wall Street Journal meaning public confession as a form of therapy. Plus according to futurama, “Oprahism” will be a religion 3000 years.

OW

    Baby girl has a better chance becoming famous for something that does not require her name. Her options include having memeiable (meme + amiable) face like ridiculously photogenic guy or being that kid named hash tag. (Wait her folks named her Oprah Winfery, so that is out)
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Radical Thinking

Don’t say you weren’t warned.

    Am I so radical for thinking that people need to give respect to receive it? Can I just go ahead and add that this statement should be true no matter how old you are. I know what you’re thinking; “she has come again with her office woes.” that’s right I blog when I’m angry and I sir, am very angry.
    Remember that moment you realized that those people you feared had absolutely no power over you. You know them; the cool kids, the bullies, teachers with a hunger for discipline but no real aim for bad behaviour, those people who made your life hell. Maybe you made this discovery in college, maybe in high school or if you were really smart and kinda lucky, maybe you achieved clarity in primary school. (My condolences to the rest of you still living under siblings or bosses who take credit for your work, while continuing to make you feel like crap, I pray you break those chains of oppression soon)
    Now it is one thing to be swimming along in a sea of blissful ignorance under a dictator. But once you have seen the light, it’s kinda of hard to go back. It’s been said about me severally (I really hate that word) that I am too Americanized. I have come to realize that “too Americanized” is their code for different, capable of independent thought and the inability to grovel …properly (I sometimes have to beg, but I am constantly being told that I am doing it wrong. Apparently, being sorry yet dignified is no match for the Nigerian standard of ego stroking + speaking in a singsong baby voice + ass kissing*)
    So now imagine my extreme shock face when I started working as a grown up and they attempted to set me back. Wait scratch that, they are not just attempting to set me back, they want to set all peoples back (ALL PEOPLES: including but not limited to females, young people, happy people, single people) at this point we are now identifying ourselves as just angry peoples.

    Their crimes include treating me as less than a person because I am younger
    Me: Please take my seat Mr. (insert name here), never mind that I got to work hours before you. While you are it please have the best computer in the building, never mind the back door deals I made in order to keep this computer in perfect working order, or the fact that the remaining computers are slow because your generation is incapable of safely downloading porn (hint hint, download it at home). Please, I want to run downstairs in my heels and buy you credit and food. Please ignore the fact that I just got in from running all over town and you’ve been sitting around all day. No, I insist sit there and get a bird’s eye view of my Décolletage, when I hand over your credit. It really is my pleasure.
    And let’s not forget the nerve of this one chick that is aching for my pimp hand to be strong.
    Me: let me get this straight, you want me to call you Mrs. (insert husband’s name here) because you are married and have children, never mind the fact that we are age mates and on the same level at work. Oh, you want to go pick your kids and buy groceries, so I should go ahead and finish the work that was given to both of us and sign your name at the bottom. I insist, please go ahead after all I have no life.
    Unfortunately and honestly I have chosen the coward’s solution to this madness because I know that I just can’t argue semantics with these people on the daily. For example I lost an argument last week about Jason Segal’s parentage.
    Me: I love Jason segel!
    Coworker: Wow Steven Seagal has a son who is an actor too!
    me : FacePalm. No Jason Segel not Seagal.
    Coworker gives me a quizzical look.
    Me: How I met your mother… He was in the Muppets, I told everyone to go see it.
    Coworker: We thought you where kidding!
    Other coworker comes up: What’s up? (Yes people still say that in 2012)
    Coworker: some guy named Jason Seagal
    me: (dying inside) Segal, the pronunciation is different
    Other Coworker: Stephen Seagal’s son I’ve heard of him.
    Me: Say what now?
    Other Coworker: he does action like his dad.
    Me: (sarcastically) where did you hear that IMDB?
    Coworkers together: Who?
    Me: you are both journalists, you should be able to look this up.
    They eventually decided that based on the 2:1 ratio of them against me, that they were right and I was wrong. This was after the conversation got deep and they explained to that Americans (like Jason Seagal) sometimes change the spelling of their names to assert their independence against their parents. Which I should know because I’m so Americanish (Still making up words). I must admit that I walked away intact but my faith in IMDB was shaken. So in conclusion being right is no defense against crazy.

Heck, even Muppets know who Jason Segel is! #JustSaying

    Back to my coward’s solution. I basically messup any task I don’t want to do and play up every bad American stereotype. (Sorry America) Whenever something I disagree with comes up, I pretend not to understand and turn up my American accent. Depending on my mood, I’m either a valley girl , Sookie from True Blood or if I’m feelin extra clever, I get pop-culture-referency like Buffy (My gifts are sooooo wasted). Crazy unstoppable force, meet crazy immovable object! That ladies and gents is why I feel so radical. I took a batshit situation and made it, in a word, RAD! Hopefully, there is a future where this insanity will not be needed.

My name is not Shamus but I’m a free radical


*Nigerians brownnosers Modus operandi(patent pending)

Aero dysfunction

    No more apologies, I’d like to say that I was very busy, or that I broke my typing arm(…ehm..fingers) but the truth is far more typical. My name is Yami and I suck at time management. I’ve sometimes have brilliant blog post ideas, but my powers of procrastination keep them from being written We can only hope and pray that I change.


    Now unto the tragedy that is my life experience. May it amuse and guide you. Show of hands, who here has flown aero contractors? If your hand is up, then I’m willing to bet that you have at least the very least sworn at them, at the most sworn off them or if you are like me done both only to find yourself inline to board yet another aero flight.
    Their list of crimes are extensive, in my personal experience:
    1. They have faked flights: Here’s the con, when two consecutive flights are not full, the powers that be cancel the first one and merge it with the consecutive flight. Thus causing a huge delay for the people who paid for the earlier flight and dooming anyone who planned to seek into work in the nick of time. By advertising the availability of more flights, they sucker more people into buying their tickets. If you must be aerodynamic take the first flight of the day which is the least likely to be delayed or better yet walk.
    2. They are constantly late: If you asked a room of frequent flyers to raise their hands if they had ever been on time with aero, I’m pretty sure they would find other uses for the hands.
    3. They duct tape seats: No offence to the makers of such an outstanding product as duct tape, But when I walk unto a plane, I do not want to see chairs held together by duct tape, unless it was part of the original seat design. All I’m thinking after I see that is, “if they don’t know how to replace a chair, what else?”
    4. They charged me directly for airport charges, I mean who does that? NOBODY, THAT’S WHO!
    5. They gave me food poisoning: In my ignorant youth (Last year) I was frivolous, I actually bought airplane food. Not only did I waste my money, I also proceeded to waste the next two days in the hospital. Everyone thinks food poisoning is glamorous vomiting with a hot male nurse holding back your braids (yak) These rumors are all true… that is if you survive the excruciating pain, lack of glamour and the fact that the hawt male nurse is actually a masculine matron with a moustache.
    6. They kicked a woman off the plane for being fat, they said she looked pregnant which she didn’t. While I respect their decision to follow policy, I thought that it was in very bad taste to let her board before making accusations. They proceeded to argue with her for up to 30 minutes, then when she deplaned (It’s a real word) they spent another half hour rummaging for her luggage.
    7. Did I mention that they are sexist: In their defense, I’ve experienced some level of sexism on almost every Nigerian flight I’ve ever flown in It ranges from allowing men have overweight carryons, to attending to the needs of males before females. Anyway, the last time I dropped my sister off; aero attempted to make an otherwise painful experience into a figurative kick in the face.
    Her flight was cancelled without notice, the next flight was in four hours (minimum of eight hours in aero time) They wanted to put her on the 7pm flight of the following day. Naturally she decided to get a refund in order try her luck with another airlines but aero personnel managed to turn that into a frustrating two hour production. Now the argument can be made that my sister and I are short and therefore easily over looked but the truth lies less with our height (we are not that short) and more with our gender. Scores of men cut the line in order to get their refunds or buy tickets and our attempt to complain or copy these men was met with almost aggressive disdain and verbal rebuke.
    Did I mention she was a woman, why does it feel worse when the sexist is female? Shouldn’t we be on the same side? Nigeria’s sexist propaganda is so diehard and so effectively administered in childhood that most people are unaware of them. But that’s a blog post for another day.
    Anyway, as I write this, I am planning another trip and yes aero will be considered. What can I say; they are often the only flight within my price range. I hate and love them for that.