FOREWORD: First of all, I will like to say that in recent times, I’ve been getting quite a number of mails from readers of this blog, brothers who are in different points of distress over their lives and relationships. They seek answers from me, and I have tried to give what I can. But I fear that I’m not entirely capable of doing right by them.
And so, in the spirit of helping, I’ve decided to open yet another segment on Kito Dairies. The ‘Dear KD’ segment, where I’ll update the blog with these enquiries, with the permission of the senders of course, and let the house offer ways these people can employ to help them with their circumstances. These updates may or may not bear the blog pseudonyms of the owners. (Whether I post their blog names is up to them)
And also, if anyone else has something, any entanglements that he needs the house to help him or her unknot, kindly email your grievance to me on email@example.com.
Secondly, I want to dedicate this episode of Love And Sex In The City to all those who have been hounding me to update the series. Most especially to that my witty friend with the witty blog. A lot of peeps have been on my case about the series, but this guy is – unfortunately for me – on my BBM friend list. So he has the unfettered access to bug me nearly every day for the past two weeks that I’ve been slacking. When he finally pinged me with a message along the lines of: ‘You know what? I don’t care anymore,’ I panicked (lol) and decided to get off my lazy ass and get to work. And so, here it is.
PS: If, dear witty friend, I find out that you reverse-psychologied me or something, I will kill you. Lol
PPS: Read and enjoy.
Click HERE for the previous episode of Love And Sex In the City.
Mary Jane came late for the Monday meeting of the junior level staff of Fit Plus. One of the Operations junior managers of the company, Mr. Oyebanjo was speaking at the time. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to him. My focus was mindlessly centered on the face of one of my colleagues who sat five seats away from me against the conference table.
Lateef, I think his name is. Continue reading