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nostalgia

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If you ask your mummy, don’t forget to ask your daddy as well…..

Yesterday I was telling you guys about the delicious beet salad my flatmate used to make and it just took me down memory lane mehn. I went on facebook and went through her page and just basked in the nostalgia of it all; she was such a fun/entertaining/crazy girl and living with her was an absolute joy [on most days]. We both loved food like mad, we both loved alcohol (she more than me sha :p) and we both had a thing for hovering at midnight lol. She used to make this potato casserole that she served with sour cream and garlic salt!! My goodness! I should make that one of these days. And then her Lithuanian fried bread with garlic and cheese dip;  the funky breath was a small price to pay for those babies!! They were just delicious! Burp*

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always peachy perfect; when we fought ehn, the fights were epic! We won’t speak to each other for days and try not to use each other’s stuff during the malice period. Tough! Back then I had a #ShitMyFlatMateSays hashtag on twitter and trust me, I never lacked material…. the girl was just a gift that kept on giving.
One day she waltzes into my room, with a straight face to ask if she can borrow some of my fake tan lotion as she had run out with hers. I’m looking at her like has this chic lost her damn mind? She’s looking at me like didn’t you hear me? Then I say “just incase you haven’t noticed, I’m black! BLACK!!”, her face colours a deep red, blushing deeply as the realization hits her and then she goes “it just proves I’m not racist, I don’t see colour; You see *pointing at her current Indian beau* I even date all kinds of boys too”…. Lmaooooo. She was right! She truly didn’t have a bone of racism in her, [Do not over-think this sentence]. And she truly was an equal rights/nationality dater which meant we always had random boys cooking their home country meals for us to try. WIN!
This chic used to finish my yam and egusi mehn! Oyibo girl wey sabi chop naija food pass me. Apparently a Nigerian ex-boyfriend had introduced her to our food and she even learnt how to make jollof rice & fried yam. Suffice to say, we had a couple of fights over who ate the soup I left in the freezer.
I remember one time my mum came to visit and in the mornings, she’d greet my mum “Hi Christy”; I still remember my mum’s face every time she said Hi Christy. Lmaoooo… Naija parents are too funny. Meanwhile, when I greet her own mum and add “Ma” the woman will correct me to please call her by her name. This thing called culture ehn.
Anyways… one night, after too many bottles of red wine, she decides to mime Wizkid’s –Don’t Dull – for me……. Enjoy!!!!


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