Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Yu Usban Iz A Wild, Mad Dawg" (Jamaica)

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Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Yu Usban Iz A Wild, Mad Dawg"

Published Aug 20, 2010

Hello mi dere peoples. Ow iz uno hall doing dese ere dayz? Mi ope sey uno Irie despite de ragamuffin wedda conditians dat iz gweyin on inna de wul.
 
Mi sey, dema haff plague inna Haiti, mud slide inna Califarnia an Haustralia, Monson inna Thailand. Lawd! Everyting is so topsy-turvy lately, mi cyan't heven cansantrate pon mi programme, hevry minute dem a pre-hempty mi programme fi natral disasta newscast. But yu eva ere mi dyin trial?
 
But, wid hall a dis ya confusian happenin, wan lady sen mi wan letta from Port Maria inna Jamaica. De poor oman mek mi heven more tiad dan mi halready iz wid she an ar marital hantics dem.
 
 
Dear Ms. Dulcimer Robothom:
 
I am writing to you because I am a disgruntled wife. I recently found  out sey, my husband is full of games and trickery. Ms. Dulcimer, when I think that he is gone to work to make a decent living. He is up and down town squiring de young gal dem all over.
 
Thank goodness for my neighbors because they are the ones who clued me into his infidedlities. I was at the PTA meeting when a friend of mine came up to me and said that she just saw my husband and my daughter drive down the road.
 
I was a bit shocked because he said he had to work late and I don't have a daughter, however the woman insisted that the girl with him looked a lot like me. Ms. Dulcimer, my crazy hormones became active and I got into my VW and drove like  I heard news to catch him and this woman. By the time I reached the destination where he was supposed to be, I realized that I ran out of gas and had to call another friend to help me out. When I finally got home, there he was sitting on the settee, reading the gleaner as if all was right in the world.
 
Meanwhile, my hair was a hot mess, my clothes was dirty from trying to refuel my car and I was still hyperventilating from the shock. He looked at me as if I had escaped from the "looney bin". Embarassingly, I retired to bed, feeling frustrated and out maneuvered.
 
Many women would think I am a bit melodramatic for reacting in that manner by a mere conversation. However, my suspicions have been brewing for a long time, I just have not been able to catch him red handed.
 
One night Ms. Dulcie, he left the house at 12:00 a.m. , explaining he had a business meeting. Immediately, bells went off inside my mind. So, I waited until he left. I dressed myself in all black with a hood covering my head. I drove to his office and saw him entering the building with his secretary. Although I remained camouflaged by the bushes, I could not see them once they had entered the building and went upstairs.
 
Then I realized, that there was a coconut tree right in front of his office on the eighth floor. A bit rusty, I proceeded to climb the coconut tree, however as luck would have it, my crepe soles fell off and hit a bystander in the head. Trying not to be recognized, I huddled among the coconuts and waited for the passers-by to leave without causing attention to myself.
 
Once again, I had another futile mission but my suspicions were growing stronger and stronger by the minute.  A few days ago, I was in the hairdressing parlour getting my hair done, and I saw him and a very young girl saunter by, hugging and kissing up. Unable to contain myself, I quickly ran out of the Hairdresser's chair with rollers and cape. I followed them inside of the Movie Theatre, I finally felt I had caught him in the act. When I tapped him on the shoulder, it turned out to be someone else. I felt like a real idiot, again he had given me the old slipper-roo.
 
I began to do some soul searching and thought, perhaps it was all in my head. Afterall, I had been a bit stressed lately. So, I went home to bed, reached for my pajamas in the dark and went to sleep. When he got home,  he woke me up to fix him a snack, and I noticed he was looking at me strangely, then he said, "Where did you get that t-shirt from?" I looked at the shirt, on it was the name "LISA". He was panic stricken and so was I. The shirt told me all I needed to know.
 
Apparently, "Ms. Lisa" had a little visit in our home and forgot her t-shirt under my pillow. I was tired and just reached for my pjs. Who knew that Lisa had left a momento. Well, I guess that was my confirmation of his wranglings.
 I must say, he did try to explain the whole fiasco away. He blamed it on the cleaning lady, the gardner and yes, the dog. But you and I both know that he has been acting like a dog.
 
Anyway, Ms. Dulcimer, what should I do? Leave the crablouse or stick it out for the long, long, long haul? Please bear in mind that life is short and I am still young.
 
 
Regards,
Inspectress Wifey 
 
 
Dear Inspectress Wifey:
 
De nex time me need wan PI me will be sure fi cyall yu. Aldough you seem a bit haccident prone, yu haff a lot a henergy a try fi keep hup wid u usban antics. I halways tell de young girlz dem dat, before dem married dere iz halways signs hof "hankipankiness".
Iz just dat sumtimes when de luv bug hit uno, hevrybadie pretend dat dem no see dem almshouse ways.
 
One time when me an Missa Fowla did break hup, mi ketch him pon Canstant Spring road a sweet talk wan nedda oman. Well, me juss drive by, soung mi harn an wave like me waz a beauty queen fi de Ms. Jamaica pageant. Him feel so custed guilty, me nevva reach ome good before im a cyall, cyall mi, a try fi hexplain. Mi juss put de phone dung an go do mi chores dem, when mi finish, Im still a chat an sob pon de line. Afta me nevva wan ere im langa-lala tory. Bout a few months pass before mi talk to im again.....but strickly as friends.
 
Mi point iz, you fallow, fallow hup yu usban too much. Some man will do dose tings fi urk yu nerves...an peple...yu cyan lissen to dem ole' reloux, 'cause dem same wan wi mek a play far yu usban if dem fine sey yu soffie, soffie. Yu know wey mi mean?
 
De more yu hignore a man iz de more im behave imself. Mos a dem luv a haudience......So nuh elp dem put on no show. Mek im look like wan poppy show. Im shuld be wandring hif yu cheatin....not de odder way roung.
 
Well, yu married halready an huno haf wan life hestablish. Me no wan tell yu fi leff yu usban an den yu send mi hole heap a hate mail. All me seyin iz, Im wilder dan a mad dawg...Maybe yu should send im fi sum hobedience trainin. Sen him to de Doggie Usban Obedience Center. Me ere sey dem tun wayward men hinto genklemen.....
 
You knoe, hif me waz yu, me would a get him check out fi germ control han mek sure im no gey yu no germs eider. Misses, bun dat dey t-shirt an wash yu self hoff inna jaze. A sure remedy far mad dawg disease.
 
Afta dat, gey im a taste hoff im own medcine , an see ow im like it. A bet yu im traighten hup an fly right.
 
By de way, donate dat de bed to de Thrift Shop and buy uno anedder one. Get rid hof de negative vibes dem. Mek sure yu gey im a stern talkin to bout bringing gal to uno marital ouse!!!!!
 
Hanyhow mi love, Ms. Dulcie want yu fi tek cyare 'cause all dat love affair hupset wi mek any wife crazy. Sumtimes yu young girlz doughn't tink right and get uno self inn a more roonkus-poonkus dan uno cyan clean hup. So, relax, pray, an leff Mr. Wretch to Massa God.
 
Lissen to Ms. Dulcie, mi haff nuff hexperience inna heart mattas. Tek cyare till nex time.
 
 
Dulcimer Peaches Robothom from Oracabessa and Westmoreland.
 
 
 
 
 


 

Tags: Mad Dawg!", Ms.Dulcie Sey: "Yu Usban iz a Wild

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