That ought to do it. Testing complete.
I’m losing blog mojo. The words just don’t flow as eloquently as the ideas appear in my mind. I’ve got so much to blog about but I think some link somewhere between the brain and the fingers has a loose nut. Time to take a hiatus, no?
Ok back to the topic. What is the point of a one night stand? It’s supposed to be like magic, isn’t it? You appear, we do our thing, then you disappear! Simple as that! No phone calls the next day, no discussing how the shag was. If we happen to meet some other time, that is by no means a guarantee that the return leg is about to take place. Hii siyo mpira ya champions league!
Sometimes you’re going through a dry spell and you just want to chwado something. Anything! Otherwise you’re stuck playing bano (marbles) with Nick (“pilot” of the KBW bilaz train) and if you read my 6 weird facts tag post a few months ago then you’ll know how long I’ve been losing to Nick. Dude’s a star I tell you! If you didn’t read the post, pole sana.
During one of those dry days, looks don’t matter, coz after lights out, any woman however undesirable turns into Lisa Raye (in fact, she’ll take your Lisa Raye reference as a compliment of her non-existent beauty) As long as the damsel is willing and hopefully she understands that this is a one day special, then that’s all that matters. Oh how wrong I was!
SO WHY DO MY ONE NIGHT STANDS KEEP COMING BACK?!! They always do! Some are worth a repeat performance while others just come back to cause more problems that I can do without!
And once the concept of a one night stand has been defiled, it loses its essence and slowly turns into a CFA/CSA (Convenient F***/ Strokes Arrangement) and before you know it, there’s a toothbrush in your bathroom. Any man knows that a toothbrush is a flag signifying intention to return. Next she’s filling your fridge with cauliflower and low fat milk and adorning your living room with fresh flowers in a vase. Soon, the BMW M5 wallpaper on your PC has been replaced with the mama’s picture as she proudly shows off her molars and dimples, the kind of picture that belong on the wall of her parents’ living room, preferably wrapped in a flowery frame. Before long, she’s showing serious plans of moving in, redecorating your crib, then baadaye she’s talking fancy weddings with all the relaz from the bunduz in attendance and even names for your 2 sons and 3 daughters!!!
Woe unto you if you a chic takes over your life without you even noticing how fast it happened. And pole sana if you try to ditch her coz you’ll get the full emotional blackmail. Why is it that whenever you’re trying to have a serious talk with your mama, she goes like “before you say what you’re about to say, I just wanted to let you know that there’s no one else I’d rather be with than you. My life was shit before I met you *sob sob*…yada yada yada blah blah fishcake… and if you were ever to break up with me *sob sob* I think I’d go into depression, I’d commit suicide…ok so what did you want to say sweetie?” WTF?! If a woman “opens up her heart” to you like this when you’re trying to ditch her, surely, utaweza kweli?
I just don’t have it in me to be that harsh on a mama even though that’s the only way out. Breaking hearts isn’t one of my hobbies. I’d rather she leaves me and saves me the trouble. I need some mad ass exit strategy! Aco & Kenyanchick better get cracking!
A.O.B (as usual)
I need to rid myself of this nasty habit. I know it’s not something to be proud of, in fact it’s downright disgusting and defenitely not something I should be showing off. I’m working on it though. I’ve only had 1 cigarette per day for the past 8 days which for me is an achievement. So enjoy the humour, not the idea behind it.
that’s the heap of empty packs that was once neatly arranged in my desk drawer
52 packs to be precise. Count them yourself! Shouldn’t be giving them free advertising though…
coz this is how your life goes once you’re hooked…
this jamaa has time, eh?
and artistic skill…
and so is everyone else who’s addicted to nicotine.
I finally moved into my new digz last Sunday. Boy, the excitement… which died as soon as my bank account dried up after buying all the necessary stuff for the digz. Fridge, microwave, hotplate, iron, kettle, tupperware, curtains, cutlery, crockery, new locks (I have no idea who has copies of the keys and I don’t want to take risks) carpet cleaning, electrical repairs, new base for the bed, a desk for my PC, and food. Total cost= +/- R3000. (About Ksh 30k) Shit, I’m broke!
Now my main beef is with the bathtub. Aki that thing is a joke! It’s barely a metre in length, how am I supposed to fit my 6 foot frame into it? Kwani I’m a 4 year old toi bathing in a basin? I remember the days when I used to poke fun at the former occupant asking him how he used to bath in it. Reply:
“Mazee inabidi nipige U-turn ndio nitoshee kwa bafu!”
How I laughed. Little did I know that I’d have to discover that same U-turn tactic myself! (figure it out for yourself!) I won’t even start with the taps! Bila showerhead…anyway you assess it for yourself!
that’s my suitcase which is about 70cm in length.
A couple of days before I moved out of my former digz, I was doing some shopping at the supermarket and my housemate called and asked me to pick up some condoms for him. Now, I haven’t bought condoms in a very, very long time and I’d forgotten just how embarrassing it can be sometimes, especially if you’re buying them at a supermarket. In Nairobi, I avoid buying condoms at supermarkets after a couple of embarrassing episodes where I ran into people I’d rather not when buying condoms. (girlfriend’s mother!!!!) So I buy mine, in bulk, from small pharmacies in town. I pop in quick, throw the money on the counter, point to the Durex 12 packs, show the two finger sign, have them wrapped in a black paperbag and off I go in less than two minutes!
Back to the supermarket, I couldn’t find the isle with the condoms! They’re usually stacked next to the till, but I guess they were moved elsewhere. So I asked an assistant where I could find them.
“BRA, YOU’RE LOOKING FOR IKONDOM?”
Huku I’m like
“shhhhhh. Must you let the whole world know?”
He points to the row where I’m to search. I walk down the isle right up to the shelf where the condoms are supposed to be but alas! There are none! Bright Archer walks up to the nearest assistant (a woman) and asks where the condoms are. She turns to a male assistant who’s at the far end of the isle and shouts in Xhosa
“Where can this young man find condoms?”
(These xhosa peeps love to shout! You can find two ladies comfortably “having a conversation” from opposite sides of the street!) Imagine my embarrassment when all eyes from other shoppers turned in my direction. The male assistant shouts to me
“Bra, turn right again then you will see the condoms in many colours!”
I turn and follow his instructions and I got to the condoms shelf, only to find one bloody pack of TRUST CONDOMS of all things! I wouldn’t even let a paki use those things! I sigh in disappointment and proceed to the till to pay for my stuff. At the till, the lady (shouts) asks
“You’re the one looking for condoms? Did you find them?”
All eyes turn in my direction again, accompanied by giggles. I told her that I didn’t find the ones I was looking for, and could she kill that topic and swipe my stuff quickly.
Having not found the condoms that my pal wanted, I popped into the pharmacy next to the supermarket. Then guess who walks in to find me standing there with three different brands of condoms in my hands. My lecturer. A whole professor! (And I missed a class last week) Our eyes met, his glanced down to my hands, then back up to meet the confused expression on my face. He taps me on the shoulder and whispers into my ear
“They’re all the same, son. Just pick one. You won’t feel the difference!”
Then he winked and walked away.
Upon getting home, my pal couldn’t understand why I threw the condoms right in his face. If only he knew the trouble that I had to go through to get him those condoms!.
So how do you buy your condoms?
I’m so out of touch with the music scene in Kenya. Aki I’m so behind that it’s painful. I got some music videos the other day. Just had to comment on them:
1. Deux Vultures – Adhiambo
To say that these guys have zero lyrical creativity would be a compliment. They are pathetic! “Nimetoka Kisumu/ kama huipendi basi meza sumu” what the hell? Great instrumental, funny song, nice video, pathetic lyrics! I met these two fellas at a shop in Hilton Arcade last December hawking copies of their latest album. They walked up to me as I was checking out the Sema album, ati “maze si u-buy album yetu. Iko na ma track poa sana. Achana na hao watoi” I looked at them and laughed! Ati I buy your cd to listen to Kinyaunyau? Are you nuts?
2. Nameless – Sinzia
Nameless is a pervert. Straight up. But the mamaz in the video. Damn!
3. Nikki & one of those Klepto boys
Who cares about the track…the chic got THIGHS!! Walalala… I remember the Lost Boyz concert at KICC back in 97. I was a little kid then and Nikki was one of the curtain raisers with “wacha nikupe mapenzi tele” and she had on this scandalous miniskirt. After she was done, the MCee Jimmy Gathu did the necessary intros and asked if anyone has any questions for her. My bro, my pals and myself stood on our chairs and yelled out in unison (with our little voices) “what colour is your aaaandaaaaweaaaaar? To our surprise, some of the older patrons joined in! Blush blush Sheila. Call her what you wanna call her, gold digger, whatever else. But woman you were blessed! Adequately! Si you sambaza some of those goodies this way? If only I was old, white and rich!