Good morning people…
I refused to say anything about Goldie’s death because I knew that my friends would see through the BS. While she was alive, during the BBA show, I was an unrepentant Goldie-basher. In the three months that she was there, the only positive thing I said about her was that the wall paper in her room was a nice colour.
I didn’t even know who she was before she entered the house. Of all people, it was my MUM who told me about Goldie. I was irritated by everything from her propellers false lashes to the way she chewed food. Then she fell in love, and watching her and Prezzo made me want to slit my wrists AND overdose on Vitamin C. However, by the time she was on her way out of the house, my respect for her had grown immensely. I’ll tell you why…
You see, I’ve loved that kind of love where you’re so obsessed with the person that you forget your middle name. When he’s happy, you are happy and everything is right with the world. But when he’s mad or sad you feel like your life is over. I compared her in-love Goldie to my in-love Ngozi and I realized that ‘in-love Ngozi’ probably wouldn’t have had the kind of self-respect and discipline she displayed. She remembered her middle name and made sure their love started and ended in the kitchen. I think most of the women who hated her did so because they recognized a bit of themselves in her.
Anyway, she left the house and although I was far from being a fan, I had some respect and the public dissing stopped.
I just wanted to say that before sharing with you something that happened yesterday…
Yesterday evening, I was in my room upstairs and through the window, I was eavesdropping overheard two women in the neighbouring compound having a discussion. I could see them sitting outside their building on tiny stools, those small stools that are perfect for gossiping, and they were talking about Goldie. They talked about her time in the BBA house, her marriage to some other dude, her music and career. The woman doing most of the talking (let’s call her Ode I) apparently got all her info from her husband. The other one, Ode II (or the Real Ode) was soaking up all this info and making the necessary dramatic “Ehen?”, “Youdonminit!” “Haba!” responses.
Now I understand that no one really knows the facts and details about Goldie’s story. And we may never know. But their version was so distorted that I was expecting to hear about a love-child that was conceived in the BBA house, born in an undisclosed location in Lagos and sent to Kenya to be raised by Timon and Pumbaa.
Some parts were hilarious, some parts were disrespectful of the dead, but the part that made me want to tear my mosquito net was when the following ensued:
Ode I: My husband even tell me say im see where dem talk say Goldie dey hide skeleton for im cupboard!
Ode II aka The Real Ode: Talk true! You see dis people?! Abeg tell me why pesin go keep skeleton for inside cupboard? Wetin she wan take am do?
Ode I: All dis celebrity, you think say their success na by ordinary hand? Most of them, juju go dey involve na!
My jaw is still by the window where it dropped.
I’ll end by simply saying Rest in peace Goldie…
Let’s have a wonderful week people 😀
In kenya papers they’ve been trying to paint the oyinbo man as an imposter and Prezzo as her one true love. i just wish they’d let the poor girl rest.
Are you freaking kidding me??!!!
They say that if you don’t have anything good to say, say nothing. That’s what I’m doing, but the truth is that the whole story is messy and it stinks to high heavens… but she’s dead, and that’s that. RIP Goldie…
I won’t be surprised when illuminati nay sayers come up with: she was sacrified to the grammy god n its all caovered up and all. People need to find something to do with their lives
My dear, I’m sure they’ve said it. We just haven’t heard it… yet.
I’ve decided that I don’t want to know again so that I don’t say anything stupid. The best time to ask her is on judgment day, but even then I will be too busy explaining to God why I put a metal pole in my bedroom. Goldie will be the least of my problems…
Timon & Pumba Royal Creche releases this disclaimer…
We of this flea infested institution of breeding, here now, via tom tom drums, fart messages and all other socially acceptable means of public announcements, do wish and do state categorically that no off spring of the late (may her sole rest in peace; the girl been too waka) Goldie was ever entrusted to our erst while creme da la creme institution as a foetus, or birthed child.
Thank you!
Signed…
Pumba (CEO: chief earth observer)
for Timon & Pumba Royal Institute
PS. Rest in Peace Goldie!
YOU JUST KILLED ME!!!! Ini! Na real Royal Creche and flea infested institution…
My dear, I don’t blame Timon and Pumbaa for this sharp sharp disclaimer! Nobody wants to have their name dragged in the mud. I’m trying hard not to voice out what I’m sure everyone else is thinking but that “the girl been too waka” is a gross understatement!! Let her rest in peace…
The disclaimer’s all over Wart Dizzy Knee….not walt disney o! You can go look see.
Ok, I’ll look… maybe I’ll check Yunivesa Stoodeos too!
* Abeg tell me why pesin go keep skeleton for inside cupboard?* are u kidding me???????
RIP GOLDIE
I swear… it was like watching the Nigerian version of Dumb and Dumber.
Which way Nigeria?
lmao. nna…una no go keel me. Ngozi abi? consider me a signee to your hilarious blog. kudos dear. havent laffed dis hard since i inhaled sneezing powder by mistake thinkin i was doin lines…Ahem!
Awww…. thanks so much dear. Yup, it’s Ngozi!! Welcome to my blog… and stay away from the cheap stuff will ya?! 😉