I just got off the phone with my mother.
Not step mother o. My own biological mother.
This woman told me my rent has expired, and that she's tired of seeing my face in her house.
Therefore, I should stop occupying space in her husband house and start moving my things to my own husband house.
Everybody and their husband. Okay.
Scary of all, She has also threatened to fold my mattress and send it to any Orphanage home of her choice, come end of August, 2018.
After all, it wasn't my husband that bought it for me, with his hard earned money. It was her husband.
Odimma.
So, by tomorrow, I will be interviewing ELIGIBLE suitors. I can't take it anymore. I'm getting ma own mehn!!!
Any how you are, provided you're a man with a functional dangling modifier, and you're not short on the ground like my granny's motar, do send in your credentials. 👍👍
P. S : 📝Goodlooks is an added advantage.
Aha! Issa working class or SIGNIFICANT business man something too.
Your business line must be something everybody can relate to. It's not my fault. I can't afford to marry an upcoming Evans.
In other words, nobody should coman work at self employed or become importer and exporter, near me. Thunder will just cook your third leg!
Like I said, I'm protecting myself and unborn kids, from stories that touch the clitoris. Thank you.
Errr... In case you didn't hear well. I said Working Class. WORKING. Not Potential class.
In simpler terms, don't coman tell me you don't have work, but you have potential. Resist the temptation. Because that hand that slapped Rochas that year, is still very much available to slap away that your invisible potential you're using to brag nonsense, together with your blokos, into oblivion.
Please I have a deadline. Apply now. The faster, the better. My mother is a woman of her words.
Save me from being hurled out like an object that's no longer in use.
Marry me. A trial will convince you.
Remain blessed and drunk In the holy ghost.