They were seven of them. There was Kiki, Noon, Lohan… okay, those are the only names I could remember, and rightly so. Because Kiki was wearing so much perfume, all she could do was smell herself. Whereas Noon’s scanty dress was too colourful, I swear it could cure cancer. Lohan’s skirt on the other hand, was three inches below her waist, lest it covered her light-skin thighs when she sits down. And with her chubby size, she appeared poorly dressed that looking at her exposed fatty skin, I almost became a vegetarian. Worse still, she had a one-night-stand written all over her body.
The other four, with all fairness looked like a bunch of middling desperate housewives, with no aspirations and no expectations beyond drinking Smirnoff Ice, smoking chains of cigarette and gossiping about Vera Sidika and men. They spoke complete Facebookenesse. You know the Lol, NKT, LMAO, and they also seemed to have three volumes in their mouth – loud, louder and loudest.
Lynette was dressed in low-cut black-squired top and high waisted blue jeans, which gave her the appearance of Michelle Obama from the waist up and a mistress to a football superstar from the waist down. It was interesting looking at these ladies. They giggled at anything and everything, and flashed around their cheap Smartphones, glossed lips and swat back their mane of gory weaves.
Ooh boy! The weaves! Let me not even go there. But I will say this. The weaves some of them had smacked on their heads explains why the devil invented darkness.
Curiously, most of them attempted desperately to speak “proper English” (read English without the slight influence of their mother tongues or morning after pills). This are the girls who would magically adopt an American accent just by passing next to a Forex Bureau.
An hour’s later and with my bill shouting something in the region of my monthly rent, my phone rang. Actually, I had intentionally set the alarm. Well, that is how I left the divas in the pretence of a family medical emergency. Before leaving, I wisely cleared my bill and Lynette’s. As for others, well, I never got the memo that meeting up with Lynette was supposed to be a group discussion attended by the entire campus divas.
Later that day Lynette had sent an apology. Okay, I’m not sure if it qualifies to be one, but it was a text message that I’m still deciphering. It went something like: Xaxaxwity. As in akiwioyeekindasi I’ve like craaazy BFFs..Lol.., ‘Opedei dint make u uncomfy.. Imagine we dint get tym to kach up. NKT..So, wat R U doinkesho? #Blankets&Wine… #TurnDown4WAT..LMAO… My frens would kinda like 2 C U AGAIN kesho., Si woiyeaki you kinda pick us up. Dunnowari, we’ll kinda squeeze in ur ride. Lol… LMAO..Luv U Xwity.
I have since blocked all my contact with Xwity.
