Naijasinglegirl:
What the hell are you talking about?

Naijasinglegirl:
I found myself reading an email from one DJ signature at the end. An invitation for me to call the number attached and meet the person at MMA2 on Friday.

I had no idea who DJ was but the email was full of unwritten promises.
Could it be one of those popular Nigerian DJ's? Could it be from Billionaire Alakija's DJ son? I pondered.
Friday was in a few days time and there was no way I was going to let my curiosity compound my insomnia issues. I picked up my phone and dialled the number attached.

"Please you just emailed Naijasinglegirl. May I know who DJ is?"

His laughter was hoarse.

"Is this your number?" He asked.

This was a voice I could swear I have heard a couple of times but I couldn't place it, not with the tension that was threatening to heat my blood.

"Yes, it is my number." I said.

"See you on Friday then. Its Don Jazzy."

The line went dead immediately.

My screams of joy reverberated the entire neighbourhood. I couldn't trust any soul to tell the good news before they alerted bad spirits.

It took that email for me to realise I have been crushing on Don Jazzy since 2007. LoL

On a second thought, I wondered what he had to offer an amateur blogger like me. Perhaps, a music deal? God know I can't sing outside the confines of my bathroom.

Would I be contracted to write 'humour' lyrics for the mavin crew? Oh boy!

Whatever he had in mind, I intended to keep a 2-step pace. I first of all crammed the lyrics of dorobucci in the event he asks me past questions from the song. Then I read every article on Don Jazzy on the internet and his tweets of the past 20 days.
During the days leading to Friday. I went on a special fruits diet. I wouldn't let the sun touch me. All I did was grin in front of my rickety looking AC from dawn to dusk.

Friday afternoon, I packed some of my clothes, my toothbrush and other essentials into a small travelling bag, after all, we were to meet at an International Airport. Like I said earlier, I was armed for whatever this meeting would bring. If it was going to take me to vegas on a private jet that night, thisgirl was ever ready to kiss Naija and all her sufferings goodbye.

I preened at my reflection in the mirror for the 5th time. I had reasons to wear my 2014 Christmas clothes in advance and my neck was adorned with my Balogun market cheap bling blings.

If I were a guy, I would have surely wore a magnetic earring and a head warmer.

Whenever you are called to dine with stars, you gotta dress like one. (Awilo Logomba, 2002)

I was probably the only one in Lagos taking a molue to International Airport but I cared less. We were along Opebi Roundabout when I noticed a destiny altering traffic had built up. I jumped out the molue with my small travelling bag, indecisive on the next call of action until I found an aboki speeding towards me on his okada. Need I say what happened next?


Arriving at MMA2 on an okada with a fast&furious aboki rider was a small sacrifice to pay for the good fortune I was expecting.

It was one long walk from where the okada parked to the entrance of the departure lounge. I called Don Jazzy on phone and he humbly came out to pick me.

"You made it just in time. Come meet my friends." He said while he flashed me a 'rich people' smile.

Seated on a table were Muna, Lynxx and the entire Mavin crew except for Tiwa. All of us had one thing in common.
Bling Blings!

The crew had a flight to catch to UK for a tour and I kept mute when Dr Sid asked why I came out with a travelling bag.

Tension gripped me in my seat.

"Relax. None of us are cannibals." Don Jazzy cheered me.

The others looked at me and smiled.

"I'm thinking of what to do for you." Jazzy said.

"Michael, give me her website address again." Muna said as she pulled out a macbook pro from her bag.

Silence hung in the air for a while until Muna grimaced and said,

"This post you wrote about natural hair is offensive! I've been wearing natural hair for a year and I feel insulted reading this trash!"

I ignored her.

"Let me read it." Lynxx said.

He collected the PC and moped at me for a seconds.

"Naija Single Girl? Wait a minute. Are you not the girl that tweeted I look like a generator. You think we celebrities don't read these things?"

"I was only kidding." I said defensively.

"Haba, make una free my guest na." Don Jazzy tried to pacify his angry colleagues.

"And you were kidding when you wrote that nonsense about Nigerian artistes too right?" Korede Bello said in an angry baby like voice. "You think I don't know that your blog?"

The smile from Don Jazzy face disappeared.

He lifted his walking stick high as though he wanted to hit me with it. "Pleaseeeeeeeee . . ." I pleaded.

"How many cups of garri do I make for you?" my sister said.

My sister?

A hand tugged me and I opened my eyes to find my sister holding a spatula in the air.

It was a Saturday afternoon dream no thanks to the appetiser tonic that has been making me sleep stupidly.

Like I mentioned on my twitter last weekend, I have been having dreams of late where I find myself among 'big people'. It's a good sign, a very promising sign.

Fingers are crossed.

culled from http://www.naijasinglegirl.com

drnairalov:


you tried....but try and be original... sweardown immediately I nd mekybliss started reading this, I (we) immediately knew the ending was a dream.. I fast forwarded to the ending and I was correct.

I read a well crafted story of a blogger of how he came to lagos with a nylon bag and became rich thru his tweets.. I think he was the first to do that.. it was a nice story and I was glued until he said d dream part.


Shut d funk up.

Write yours
ur story is a fragment of it.. I can swear that u read dat blogger story, I wud search 4 it, if I see am I go paste am here

all d same nice try* just be more imaginative