Wicked Coochie Gummies

The other night, at 3am, I was scrolling on Tiktok and snorting at an array of expertly curated vignettes to cater to my tastes. If you even care, they were things such as Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Butera Grande whisper-talking, crying and clasping hands while theatre nerding out on their WICKED press run (complimentary), LOVE IS BLIND tea spillages on Tyler’s brood and Ashley’s avian sensibilities as she goes on a press-tour defending his deadbeatism (dergatory), and extremely intricate skits of scenarios that for some reason I find fascinating (why am I obsessed with this dude who pretends to be a friendly bartender at a loud bar that vibes to the music?). Anyway. While I was doing this, an ad stopped my thumb in its tracks. It, of course, was not presented as an ad. No, it was nefariously integrated into the experience, presented to me like she was just a regular creator, wanting to chat to me about her latest addition to her beauty regimen. It was a beautiful young woman, smiling into her camera, seemingly in the middle of her morning routine with a large pink water bottle. Fresh-faced in very cute gym gear chock full of microplastics and with the kind of delicate makeup that was artfully applied to make it look like she was not wearing any make-up, she says- like she’s on Facetime talking to me, her best friend- “My man went to TOWN last night girl,”

“Well,” I thought, “that’s very nice for my good sis, love to hear a woman is getting hers, but why was she telling me for?” I would soon learn.

“Girl,” she arched a brow that intimated that she was about to let me in on a coveted secret. I leant forward in fascination, “Ever since I have been taking [what I will diplomatically call pum pum vitamins] my man can’t get ENOUGH. If you want to taste like strawberries, cookies and cherries, you need to get you some of these! Everyone’s mother is talking about them!”

I shuddered and quickly scrolled to see a comforting video of Ariana and Cynthia delicately blinking as they contemplate how they’re going to help change this rancid world with their formidable vibratos (I am earnestly excited for WICKED). I was horrified at that ad. First of all, my mother isn’t talking about the pum pum vitamins. She’s talking about how I really need to get curtains for the home I moved into a year and a half ago. She’s talking about how she watched the Martin Lewis show and learned that I can get off 25% off my council tax bill. She’s talking about how she really likes the Pentatonix Christmas album- a fact I learned about her recently. Secondly, I was appalled to see yeast infections advertised with so much enthusiasm. Seriously, how much was that girl paid to hawk THRUSH gummies? PH annihilators? Third of all, and this, I hope, goes without saying- but I will still go ahead and say it- I was very distressed to see, once again, that we’ve circled right back around abject, feminine self-hate. I mean, it never really went away, but I feel there was a period where it was at least seen as declassé to hate yourself in public. You had to at least pretend that you were Everything Positive. A vagina that tastes like strawberries and cherries and cookies is a terrifying concept, actually. Call me old fashioned but pussy should taste like pussy. And as long as all is well- you know, hygiene wise- to someone who is attracted to you, it should taste like ambrosia. I’m reminded of one of my favourite lyrics by Goldlink, from “Dance On Me.”

“Slightly hairy/And don’t stink/Lord I thank you for this good food that I’m happy to receive”

Exactly. It’s a blessing as is. Your guest should be happy to feast regardless of whether you pop coochie gummies (that probably are just regular ass gummies, actually).

Just needed to get that off my chest.

Bits:

• My boyfriend temporarily moved to Rotterdam earlier this year for work, and I’ve really been enjoying how chic it is to split time between London and what I might controversially call the cooler of the Dams. First of all, it’s an hour and a bit door to door from my house in London. This is the time it would take me to get to deep Croydon- except it’s Rotterdam, and no offence to Croydon (if you’re not from London, I feel like this clip encapsulates the town), but this feels more elegant. There are trams though, so that’s one thing they have in common. I really am totally enchanted by Rotterdam, and I’ve been main-charactering hard there. I re-wrote the last chunk of Book Three cozied up by our wide windows, or tucked into a coffee shop, and it was the perfect, quaint cosmopolitan backdrop. I’ve taken to calling my boyfriend’s apartment my piéd-a-terre unironically which I have forced him to be charmed by. It’s a phrase I learned from Yasmin in Industry. If you haven’t watched Industry she is a horny heiress who is comically bad at her job (I love her). Industry really stresses me out by the way, but that, perhaps, is another conversation for another day. As I was saying, I have been living my romcom protagonist dreams there. We are neighbours to a bakery, a grocers, and a coffee shop. When I was pulling all nighters on deadline, dawn would waft in through the window with the scent of fresh bread from next door, and this would give me some comfort as I went cross-eyed, trying to think of another synonym for “nipple” (in the end, just “nipple” is usually best, I’ve found. There’s probably only one acceptable synonym for nipple. I won’t tell you here in case you disagree with me. You will just have to read my books, available at all bookshops with taste and class.)

  I’ve introduced myself to every one of our neighbours in the hopes that they will remember my name, as I’m buying onions, or a latté, or a bagel, like I’m Belle in that little French village in Beauty & The Beast. “That Bolu,” they will say with a warm chuckle, and a wry shake of their head, “Always mumbling a Megan Thee Stallion lyric to herself, and with her head in the clouds”. They haven’t done this so far, but they offer me tepid to warm smiles, so that is something. They will be seduced by my effervescence soon enough. I adore having somewhere to run away to, somewhere new to explore, somewhere new to be in love in and fall in love with. It’s been a delightful journey so far, even though I did get catcalled once by a white Dutch man who hollered “Brown Sugar” at me. I gave him the finger. Take a girl out of East London etc, etc.

• I watched that Netflix Christmas romcom Meet Me Next Christmas with Kofi Siriboe and Christina Milian. It has 0.2% Kofi Siriboe and bizarrely, 98% a capella group Pentatonix.I think it was written by AI who was given the directive of "Pentatonix x Christmas x romance.” Funnily enough, while bad, it isn’t as bad as you expect it to be. It’s a pleasant-bad watch that is 10% longer than it needs to be. I watched it with my mother, and as aforementioned, this is when I found out she was a big fan their Christmas album. However, after a while, even she grew tired of the fact that the Pentatonix were mentioned every other line. “Haba! Kilode?” she exclaimed. That’s for my Yoruba fam. Although, in this clerb, we all fam. I need to seriously divest from Tiktok.

• I don’t have a comment on John Krasinski being PEOPLE’S SEXIEST MAN ALIVE. Well, as I was writing that I decided that I do. In the 2020s, PEOPLE’s sexiest man alive innately cannot be the sexiest man alive. Maybe before it meant something, but now it’s a corny title and demands a degree of earnest engagement with one’s attractiveness that mitigates the term “sexiest”. In fact, accepting the title might be actively ick inducing. One could say that it has a little of the air of desperation. This does not apply to all other men on the list, by the way. I am very happy my band of Merry Gentlemen, the New Girl boys, made it. They deserve, my cuties. This is solely about the title “sexiest”. I mean Blake Shelton in 2017? I would argue that it started to get corny at around 2009. Look at every man on the list from 2009 and tell me they haven’t been a little corny. That’s right. You can’t. It could never have been Glen Powell (who is rumoured to have turned it down). He is way too sexy for that. You know who else allegedly turned it down? Jason Momoa, Ryan Gosling and Keanu Reeves. All, objectively sexy, chill men with a healthy engagement with their sex appeal. I rest my case.

• Been watching VEEP. What a time to be watching VEEP. One thing about me? I will eat up a British created HBO series. There’s something about the British comedic mind that gets me. I think it’s all the rain we have. We have to warm ourselves with sharp wit struck together. I fucking love VEEP.

• MARTHA on Netflix. She’s 100% a nightmare (complimentary). I love her. My favourite part was when she nonchalantly recounted this beautiful moment in a church where she kissed another man on her honeymoon. Followed closely by the incessant letters she sent her ex-husband running the gamut from lovesick to threatening to kill herself because he left her for another woman. This of course, is despite the fact that she cheated on him many times, and didn’t really seem to like him all that much. Anyway, she built something magnificent, lost it all, and built it again. That speaks to something beautiful. Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep <3.

• I have changed the title of the sequel to HONEY & SPICE! SUN UNDER SKIN was actually always meant to be placeholder for the book, something that spoke to the theme (which I will not share because it may spoil). However, as I was writing, the story evolved, and the dynamic between characters revealed themselves further, I found something more fitting, that still encapsulates what SUN UNDER SKIN did, but also expanded upon what the book has become. I am super excited to share when the time comes. In due time, I’m also keen to share what I learned about myself as I wrote this book, because, whew! It was a doozy. Difficult in a way I wasn’t used to, but very rewarding. I was thrilled to meet grown and sexy Kai & Kiki and I can’t wait for you guys to meet them- and their new journeys- too. Much to announce!

  What I’ve Been Listening To:

• The way Glorilla says EUGH. What a delightful sound. It just does something to me. Somewhere between a grunt, a rallying cry, an affirmation. It’s so sexy, so full of confidence. No one can tell me shit, when I “eugh!” like Glo. She’s on my permanent gym rotation and she gets me through the hell that is the Stairmaster. GLORIOUS is an excellent album and I adore ha!!

• MEGAN: ACT II. Now I’ve been riding with Miss Meg since TINA SNOW and I have to say, no album of hers has caught my attention like this since then. It’s fun and funny, it’s sexy, she’s playing and being adventerous with her flow and she’s skipping across topics. She has evolved and expounded on her skill. In FELL IN LOVE - one of my favourites on the album- she pulls on old school playful braggadocio with, “I am the dick magician/the dick magician/make it disappear, then reappear like a tada”. It’s not the lyrics per se, but it’s the performance of them, the energy, how she hits the words with a staccato swagger. Just trust me. Listen to it and tell me it doesn’t do something to you. Makes me feel like Beyoncé cooing, “sit on mama’s lap, hey” on SUGA MAMA. The repositioning of sexuality, the woman as the dominate pursuer, the wooer, the cajoler. Basically, it’s hot.

• LOOKING FOR GOD. A dreamy love song by Nigerian-American artist Mannywell. There’s something so beautiful of finding confirmation of the divine in the existence of your love. Further on in the song he croons in Yoruba, and it always warms me to here that in a song that isn’t explicitly, “Afrobeats”, but more R&B/soul. Language defies genre.

• Speaking of R&B, Leon Thomas’ latest album, MUTT, is perfect from top to bottom. Flawless. I’ve been a fan of him as an artist and producer for a while (seriously, his credits are kind of insane for his age), and between him and Ariana, the cast of VICTORIOUS are UP like it’s stuck. On this album he’s a rascal and a romancer- isn’t that the central tenets of male R&B? It’s traditional R&B but contemporary, innovative, interesting. It sets scenes, tells a story, creates a vibe. A cohesive body of work. It makes me want to write a wry, angsty show about thirty-somethings to its soundtrack (I miss you INSECURE). In fact, maybe I will.

• I am physically unable to not listen to Doechii’s NISSAN ALTIMA every single day. I imbibe it more than I do my iron pills, which I really do need to do better with. It thrums through my veins, I feel powerful, unbeatable, unsurmountable with it. Another Stairmaster necessity.

Something Pretty I Wore This Week:

I don’t know if this is going to be a permenent fixture because, truth be told, I don’t always be going outside. I’m just winging it here. But bear with me. So in the below pic, I was about to go for drinks and a yap with my dear friend Yomi (Adegoke….buy her book) at this cool speakeasy-esque bar called Black Lacquer (ask for their twist on a marg ). I said on Instagram that I looked like a cool English teacher that sits at the edge of the desk, and throws the assigned book away to teach them poetry. The poetry in question will of course be, the lyrics of, my personal Bard Of Life, Mariah Carey. My girl Camilla who is possibly the chicest woman I know, replied, “Girl no, this is fashion editor who slipped out of the office party to close the holiday issue and doesn’t know she is about to make out with the son of the publisher in the accessories closet” and I kind of enjoy that concept much, much more. Regardless of the fictional universe I create in order to spice up my life, I want to talk about the shoes. This was the very first time I wore them; I bought them earlier this year with my mum in Milan. We went on a whim, I was busy, she was busy, and we just decided to go for a day and a night. Well actually she said “I want to go to Milan to shop” and I said “Okay, I’m coming”. I wasn’t actually invited. I foisted myself upon her. In fact I think she only agreed to me coming because I said it would be my treat. I know she was thinking, “Damn, 33 years and I STILL can’t get rid of this velcro baby!” Well, tough. It was our first ever trip alone together without my younger sisters (sorry to them….). We had a day of gentle shopping, pizza and gelato and her telling me I was spending too much money and me telling her to spend more money and in the evening, on the way back to our hotel, we passed this shop that was doing a sale. Premium Italian leather and suede shoes at 60% off! I almost blacked out. Needless to say, we indulged. These purple shoes make me happy because I bought them on an impromptu trip to Milan with my mama, and they make me feel extremely sophisticated and together, like I have a pack of pocket tissues in every single bag I own, and not loose Blank Street napkins. It makes sense that I feel elegant in them. My mother is the most elegant.

Now, I say this all the time but I really will try to be more consistent on here, due to the Emerald Bandit Despot running Twitter- Never To Be Known As X- to the ground, and because I have a pathological need to yap. I really do like it here.

Lots of love,

B xx

P.S I am not responsible for typos. I am here to have fun and be free from the vigours of the discipline of my craft.