August 2006

Boy it’s been one very fuctup August and I will definitely be glad when it gives way to September. I feel as if someone with some very strong witchcraft cast a spell on me this month coz it’s been one misfortune after another. From a nasty breakup with someone I cared a great deal for, to getting assaulted, to falling sick, recovering then falling sick yet again (yaani I’ve lost weight till all my pants are slipping down my ass!) to missing out on a big inter-varsity sports tournament which all my pals went for and enjoyed themselves immensely, to other personal issues. Whoever cast a spell on me better lay low coz one of my distant aunts is a serious believer in this kind of thing and I could get her to unleash a deadlier dose of witchcraft on them! But again she’ll wonder how I found out about all this. Hmm… ok forget that option. I’m not superstitious anyway.

I have a serious dislike for shrinks. I think they are a waste of time and money coz they usually take the most circuitous route to get to the core problem (which you already know) then they ask you what you think the solution is. If I knew the solution I wouldn’t be here talking to you dumbass!! I’d been slipping into a mild depression lately and I found myself at my shrink’s office last week. Very reluctantly if I may add. Actually he called to check up on me and forced me to make an appointment. Now this guy is quite queer. He rides to work on his motorbike wearing a leather jacket, torn jeans and those leather helmets and huge goggles that World War 2 pilots used to wear. He also has an interesting way of driving his point across. Last year, while explaining a point, he got up off his chair and came up close to me, face to face, reeeeally close, as in nose to nose, then he looked me straight in the eye. Huku I’m thinking “er…WTF dude? I’ve been told that I’m above average in the looks department but I don’t swing that way!” then he backs off and says “see what I’m saying? You have no boundaries! You have no personal space! And that’s why blah blah blah yada yada yada…” OK. Point taken.

At the time I was seriously contemplating dropping out of school coz I was stuck in a fuctup course and my folks wouldn’t hear of it, and the guy sez “Its ok to drop out of school. Many people do it. I did! And look at me now! Maybe school just isn’t for you!” Whaat? So this time he asked me when I last got laid. Alaa? Relevance to the situation? “None really. It just helps get stuff out of your head. Get yourself a good shag then come and tell me about it.” Haha! Daddy hapo umeota! Well…there are some cute naïve 18 year olds in my class that I could confuse further but I don’t do kids. It’s a wonder that anyone takes him seriously. I wonder where he got his qualifications anyway. M.I.T? (Mogadishu Institute of Therapy)

It was good to see the reigning champions of England Chelsea FC get back to winning ways on Saturday against Blackburn, after that embarrassing defeat to Middlesbrough last Wednesday. It was even better to see that idiot Didier Drogba stay on his feet for once and play some noteworthy soccer. Those who know me also know that I have no love for this sissy and his stupid hair. I bet that some garage somewhere in West London must be running out of grease. I don’t understand how someone can get hit on the head and fall to the ground while clutching at his ankle in agony (and vice versa!) talk of misplaced nerve endings. We didn’t pay 24 million quid for such amateur theatrics! We already have Robben for that! And he’s doing a splendid job diving around the pitch. There’s even a few blogs and a website for Drogba haters. Does anyone remember The Predator?

Ma hair is shine more bettah dan yo moda’s hair! Wuaahahahaahaha!!

Then Chelsea have been drawn in the same group as Barcelona AGAIN! How does this happen three seasons in a row? Why are we second seeds behind Arsenal? Why can’t we for once be drawn against some lesser teams like Lyon as the top seeds, then Panathinaikos, Betis and some other shit team? Why do we have to go through this ordeal again? Me thinks someone rigged the process.

Guys suck when it comes to buying the right gifts for their significant others and that’s a fact. But how can we ever be right when chics point out a million and two different things each day that they think are “lovely”? Whether it’s some belt, skirt, earrings or a pair of shoes in a magazine to an outfit that some other chic is wearing. All this information gets lost somewhere between thoughts of soccer, food, sex and beer until we finally stop taking notice altogether. “Sweety do you think that chile’s dress is nice?” And we quickly reply in the affirmative without even looking up for a second.

So this is what I used to do with my previous girlfriends, I’d make a mental note of anything that she’d mention more than once (that shows that she really wants it), I’d jot it down in my notebook with stars indicating the level of desirability, then I’d go out of my way to buy whatever it is for her birthday or for any other important date.

But why is it that some chics don’t do the same for their boyfriends? Ok I may be wrong, maybe it’s just the clowns that I had for girlfriends who were just too daft to pick up a few obvious hints. For example, I’m a big Boney M fan and someone stole my original cd some time back. I’ve searched all over Nairobi for the Boney M More Gold cd but to no avail. I know I can get it in South Africa but why bother when what I really want is for someone to buy it for me. Anyway, while driving somewhere with my ex last year, some genius at Capital FM decided to play a track from this album, and I was so jazzed that I turned up the volume and sang along. Then I said to her that any woman who would buy me this cd (it’s the search for the cd that matters) I’ll call my relaz in the shagz, tell them that I’ve found “The One” and instruct them to dispatch the cows immediately. If she could not only buy the cd, but also sing “Jimmy” to me with my name in place of Jimmy, not only will the relaz be summoned, but those cows will find themselves on an express overnight pick-up to her old man’s shamba!

But guess what? Even after dropping similar hints to four different chics, they still failed to get the hint!! Airheads kabisa! So the question here is, is it the gift that matters or is it the effort behind getting the gift that counts? Think about it, anyone can walk into a shop and buy an expensive cologne, dress, pair of shoes, watch etc as a gift, but wouldn’t you feel that this person really cared for you if they went well out of their way to search all over for something that you’ve always wanted?


Q. Why do Kikuyu men enjoy watching porn on rewind mode?

A. Coz they get an orgasm watching the prostitute handing back the money!!!


(this part should have been posted two weeks ago but I didn’t know how to upload the pics. Now that I do…)

Yesterday’s weather has got to be the worst that I’ve ever experienced in this city in the last few years, by far! Check out this cloud!!

Ni kubaya! And this was at 7:30am!!

I doubt if I’ve ever seen such big, dark, angry and heavily pregnant clouds during my time here. Now the way I’m such a kubaff, after looking out my window and after seeing this very imposing image, I STILL decided to walk my ass to the bus stop in the rain, no umbrella, got to school thoroughly soaked only to find that campus was virtually empty coz all lectures had been cancelled. So why didn’t I stay in bed? You can clearly see gale force winds and floods and you still insist on venturing outside?

Actually the university had announced on a local radio station that all lectures had been cancelled coz staff and students were stranded in all parts of the city due to the floods, but I don’t listen to these 2 bob radio stations coz they speak in xhosa half the time and play kwaito all day long. Anyway, the entire city came to a complete standstill coz of a major power blackout that lasted until close to midnight. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, was working. ATMs, public phones, airtime vending machines, the lifts (some unfortunate peeps in my building got stuck in a cold dark lift for hours!!) the cell phone network was down, I couldn’t take a hot bath, couldn’t cook or make some hot coffee yet all nearby fast food joints, Nando’s, McDonalds, Debonairs, KFC et al were closed. The liquor store just happened to be open, so my pal and I, having nothing better to do with our time, decided to buy a litre of Chateau V.O. Brandy and Coke…

thank the lawd for cheap liquor in this country!

…and we proceeded to knock ourselves out! (Of course I was on another mission altogether with that liquor! Drowning my sorrows after my recent break up with the wifey) Needless to say, this morning my head felt as if I had pulled a Zidane head butt on an oncoming train and lost. They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So why do we drink ourselves to a stupor knowing a major hangover awaits?

You’d be forgiven for thinking the title of this post was about something serious like some major injustice had been done to a certain Mr. Musau. I have some crazy ass housemates. These peeps crack me up so hard on the daily! Some of the stuff that goes down in my apartment…we really ought to videotape this shyte and send it to Dr. Frank Njenga. I’m sure he would post the videotapes back with a box of straitjackets! The building committee trustee lives next door and he’s banged on our door severally to complain about the noise, and said that we must be witches coz only witches are allowed to laugh hysterically in the middle of the night. We just sit there giggling to ourselves as his huge jelly-like belly jumps up and down in tandem with his arm movements. It’s even funnier that the dude’s body is so disproportional, he’s a typical Johnny Bravo type. Big upper body, booming voice and feeble twigs for legs.

Anyway, my housemates had been complaining about the monotonous playlist on my PC coz some songs receive airplay from dawn to dusk (inspired by Kiss FM) One of these tracks is Alicia Keys’ Mr Man. While attempting to cheer me up with their own Kao rendition of Mr Man (hence Unfair to Mr Musau!) complete with guitar, the idiots thoroughly assassinated the song! I’m talking worse than Denzel Washington’s shooting in the final scene in Training Day. Sample this:

“I wanna know iv you viu nthe weeeyi I nduuuuuu, I nduuuuuu, I wanna know if nthere’s a nchenz vo meeeeyanyuuuuu, and youuuu… coz I ndowannambe I ndowannambe I ndowannambe unvair to Mr Musauuu!”

All this with knees to the floor, eyes shut in a very deep/emotional pose, and fists clenched while singing their hearts out.

But the part that nearly killed me was my housemates’ chic (in 5 year old girl’s soprano and while brrinking shameressry)

“I like nthe way you ngeeeeving me atteeenzon nthrough nthe night…!”

Let’s just say that I won’t be playing that track for a very, very long time.

Last night one of the resident lunatics told us a story that was just plain silly, hilarious, sick, malicious and sad.

In Nairobi, the railway line passes through Jericho and/Umoja, right? There used to be some bored ass muggers who would wait for noon when the railway track had expanded due to the intense solar heat. Then they would apply some lubricant on about 10 metres of railway track and sit back and wait for some unfortunate victim to waylay. When a clueless guy came by, they would grab him, slap him a bit, strip his pants off, lift him shoulder high and then drop him ass first onto the hot metal railway track (YEEEEOOUUUCH!!) ….then drag him by the legs (with ass still in intimate contact with the metal) through the 10 metres of lubricant!! (Please don’t try to picture the skidmarks!)

Then they’d mug him.

I don’t know how true this story is, but it had us in stitches for hours till when the trustee came knocking, he was totally speechless coz some of us were rolling on the floor plucking our hair out while others were simply lying there dying of exhaustion! I guess that explains why guys woke up this morning looking battered as if we had encountered ringworms while serving in Iraq.

I looked forward to sleep,
Sometimes I dream, and you are there,
And then I realize,
Here’s the reality of my life I’ve come to hate.
Careless whispers heated
the coldness of my smile.
Once upon a time,
Long sexy strokes of confidence
coloured my skin,
Because then,
You were there.
I don’t know if I’ll ever forget
How you made everything to me
Seem complete.
You were the passion
Underneath the harshness of those tidal waves.
They used to sink me and drown me.
And then,
You gave your breath to me.
And then
I tasted the sweet flavour of life.
Now I need to break the intricate web,
You have woven around me.
Safety cuddles me like a soft lullaby,
But then,
That was the only song I wanted to hear.
And then, you threw it away.
Bittersweet sensations,
Lingered like an unwanted scar.
You hid me far away from the
Painful truth,
And then,
You tossed your heart high up into
The night-time sky.
Far enough,
I cried because I couldn’t see it.
Now I look forward to sleep.
I can dream,
When you were there.
But like love insatiable,
You remain where memories call,
Like haunting winds.

By Edoria

I won’t grieve for you.
Wounds may heal but the scars always remain.
Love can sometimes be like magic,
which itself is nothing more than a fucking illusion.