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KenyanMusings

• March 12, 2008
• 17:15

  Tag numero 1000000000001

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  tags  

  Its been hectic for some of us. Happy new year people, big up (tihi, always wanted to say that in a very John Karani reading lyrics on KBC SNS “last night, I was inside of you…Last night I was inside of you"- kinda way. Sorry, I’m not gutterized, its just that is my clearest memory of him to date) to all Kenyans for embracing the path to Peace, hope springs eternal. Can we get some work done already!
  

  Archer tagged me.

  Random facts about me....Here goes;
  

  1.

  I am actually very good friends with a few bloggers. Not in the retarded ‘wont be friends with East-siders cos I’m a West-sider’ - kinda blog way. Again, I repeat..it IS retarded. Just people I know as fabulous human beings, as who they are, as who they hope to be…. through my eyes. I talk to them about life away from blogs, every once in a while and they may not be your usual ‘come over for tiramisu & J&B, and let’s smoke a joint and bug out’ kinda of friends’ but they are considered friends. Its not too long a list, but it has Mutumia, Mental, M and Archer and a few others in it. The best part is Mental does have to be hugging M and Archer etc but yes, they are all my friends and I like being in a place where I decide who can be my friend because I like and admire who they are…perfections, flaws and all. I am not the kind of person to be told how to live my life. These are people who stop and listen when I have a crisis or I when they do, who will go out of their way to wish me a good day, do things that friends do for friends.....is good enuff.
  

  2.
  
  I really can’t stand it. That thing that women do of wearing a bra with these "plastic-translucent see through straps" and think they can get away with wearing a bare back/off shoulder top. Er, there is such a thing as a STRAPLESS bra! Alternatively, if gravity has not taken its toll, go without a bra but please lose the tacky plastic.
  
  3.
  
  I am addicted to acrylic nails in a very 'I forgot what my real nails look like' way. Also, on the upside…. They don’t ‘scratch’. I'm also addicted to Mojitos at Mercury.
  
  4.
  
  I am psychotic. Sometimes. And I have this very dirty habit of telling Mr. KM that “I’m suing you for half your shit” when we fight. Do not even ask, it stupefies him every time, I dunno where it comes from I swurr. Him: “don’t you have to be my wife to do that?”
  Me: No! The law is on my side….
  Sigh, I know, I know.
  I also tossed his X-box against the wall when he was busy biting off a fire harpy’s head as I groveled for attention. He had said we are leaving in 30minutes. 1 hour later alternative sources of amusement were non-starters and the damn X-box had to go. So, we ended at “you know what, I don’t even feel like having a meal with you right now” Er who cares for dinner when the good news is ....the.damn.gadget.is.gone.for.now!
  5.
  
  I love taking baths and showers. I shower twice a day..I can't sleep without it. My evening shower last no less than 30 minutes. Lavender and vanilla….hmmmmm. Its me time. I need an hour and a half’s notice before I get ready. I’m a girl….girls rule, boys drool. Deal with it. And yes, I still shower after a night out. 4 o'clock in the morning I'm staggering around and across the bathroom taking a shower. I think that's dangerous.
  
  6.
  
  I have grown up. The past year or so, I have grown up. Life, career, love, friendships. I have grown up. I have grown up, I have loved and been loved by a fabulously wonderful, funny, kind, sexy, hot…. I am completely never getting over how bloody hot I think he is and his lips and hands were made for me. I lust after him like whoa, I could walk into the club, see him making small talk with his boys with his hand in his pocket and a drink in the other and I walk over, sniff him and we erm, “go help me find my phone, I think it fell in the car”. I like the way his hand is so big and it covers my little one kabisa and the way he says ‘hmm’ and they way he holds the small of my back and the way he loves me and makes me so happy and says I’m the most difficult combination to find and god, he’s so dark and clean shaven, I could just stare at him all fucking day! His heart was made for me, he says things I would so say and finds the joke that I would find in an ordinary sentence. I can think of a million (no pun) reasons I would still date him if all he had was a shirt on his glorious broad, black back. And yes, I‘d let him play with the Xbox all Sunday as long as I get to sit next to him and hear him breath. He is my greatest friend and I love him more than all the grains of sand in the ocean. I just love him love him love him.
  
  That done.... I'm tagging
  
  Mutumia,
  Mental,
  M
  KP
  Medusa
  MsK
  Shi
  
  
  
• October 30, 2007
• 17:37

  Love Like This

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I cannot get this song off repeat..*groan* I have failed mankind.
  
  I am also requesting for it at all gigs and clubs and insisting for dances and chanting along to "oooh oooh".
  The beat tight, the words so right....resistance is futile. I'll just live it out.
  
  
  
  
  Love Like This -Natasha Bedingfield
• October 19, 2007
• 16:08

  Today I will........

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I am stressed!
  
  I fully intend to, in this order;
  
  Drink 4 of these
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Drink 2 of these...... I'm not that much of a hedonist
  
  
  
  Make out and get laid in the car, in the parking lot or I could sit strategically on him in the club......either way, somehow, I will get laid for sure, and not in my or his house. There has to be an element of danger involved.
  
  That or I am smoking ganja today, even I have no clue where to get it, so, nikipata, nitakuambia....This stress is too much!
• September 17, 2007
• 17:50

  Giffen Goods and Prison Break yaay!!!!!

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  
  
  
  There are things guaranteed to effortlessly give me a nervous breakdown. One of them is the inability to find information when I need it.
  
  I traveled over the weekend……for peace, rest and relaxation, sand, sex, massage, cocktails and lots of laughter at my secret place which as you guessed, I’m not telling. **sighs** And I’m going back again in a month…its soooo addictive!!!…..I tried snorkeling again, this is the nth time, and even with someone holding my hand, I still hyperventilate at how ewwwww underwater is. Me I like pools, with cement floors. And I have these visions of jaws and green thingumajigs taking over my body, or those multicolored fish , mutants with arms and stuuuufffff, YUCK, will, erm, start speaking to me like “go tell my cousin Martin I forgive him”. Aiii, now who will spend the rest of her life looking for a Martin? “Martin unajua ule samaki anaishi huko kwa maji?” Alaaa!
  
  Well, I brought a book to read. …Ideally, I should have brought something fun, then again who is to say what fun is, to read, but, I, KM, brought an Economics book. Why I am reading an economics book? I don’t know why. I get these flashes of "I'm not sure if I can call it brilliance, but its most definitely an inquenchable thirst for general knowledge" where I feel I have no clue about a topic, or something will piqué my interest and I’ll pick up a book just to ‘know’.
  Plus, I’ll be lying….me, I love reading. The economics book, is not punishment.
  Like you know how sometimes you will see a documentary about rock formations and you really want to read about rocks and rivers and yes, despite the fact that you dropped Geography in 2nd form, primarily because you did not have notes on Rivers, only like 2 * 120page books of notes……you find a book on rocks formations and rivers and read it till you drop.
  Or you have a discussion on religion and you want to read more about it, or art, or music, or a certain animal, or my personal favorite….medicine. I read about illnesses, symptoms, how to treat them…..I really really wish I was a pediatrician. I love that. I love reading about random stuff like that. Its such fun!
  
  ***shivers with excitement** Are you with me? Are you feeling me? Don’t you ever get that feeling like, you are running out of time and you haven’t read all the books in the universe?
  Oh, and I got this huge asss book on law cases. Its soooo interesting. I had a uhhhhh, a Legal aspects of "insert profession" classes, and the cases were fiun, so I got this book with stories and stories of law precedents.....Oh, Bliss. We all know "Wambui Otieno vs Umira Kager clan", Balfour Vs Balfour", "Carlill Vs Carbolic smoke ball company" but good lord, this is like the real ish, "Eccles Vs Bryant" Non- es -factum, caveat emptor, Res sua...coool! dude man! I shoulda been a lawyer!
  
  So, we are chilling right, I’m reading my big ass Econ book full of knowledge, which will all go to my head, double cool, then boom, right there, in my face is the word….wait for it “Giffen good”. Shoooot! 2 things crossed my mind “Dear lord, I will cry because I can’t quite remember what this word is!!”. Who the hell just throws in the word ‘giffen’ in there without a glossary, a footnote, an explanation, anything…nothing!!!!Daaamn!!
  
  I have a photographic memory. I remember my first economics text book. I remember how the first pages looked like, I remember my Economics Lecturer writing “the snob effect” on the board, before Kevin, (Kevin where are you? stand up and say hi to the people please…..) the guy in the second row shot me a glance a la “the KM effect”, which is totally not fair because, I’m a not a lot of things, but …okay, wth, lets move on……. To the lecturer... his handwriting, I remember words like “veblen” and giffen” were in italics….and I remember damn well what Veblen goods were because at that time a ‘mercedes’ according to my lecturer was a veblen good. Well, each to their own. I also remember “ostentatious goods” was another word for veblen goods.
  I loved economics then…..only for the next 10 pages until everything shot to shit, and the pleasure of demand and supply was replaced by crazy ass looking graphs and functions….ughhhhh! One minute I was happy, at opportunity cost (that was on page 2 of the book) dd curves, ss curves, elasticity, equilibrium,and right after we got into utility, Marginal Propensities..to save, to consume.
  Then there came, too much for my fun-loving brain..... something called IS/LM Models……Hell! I switched off. I was down for all that exciting stuff, and you have to agree, basic Economics is a lot of fun!!! Soon after, I was not attending classes, I was selling juice and going clubbing, and all I knew is Macroecon sucks ass! Infalation…the leading culprit in suckage….**shivers**.
  
  Unfortunately, and my heart was breaking at this, I could not remember what the hell a giffen good was. What made it a giffen good…… I know, bread was a giffen good, but there was something I was looking for , an explanation that I could not remember and I was dying inside.
  
  So I started panicking, needing a dictionary, needing to google it, Oh god I was in hell. So I ask the chap…..”how do you define a giffen good?” He looked at me, said he does not know, he is not an economist... Oh god I'm marrying an idiot!
  And tricked me into digressing into something else with him, again, after saying “how come you get to study and I’m not allowed to?” Well maybe you should study Mr. dunno what a giffen good is!!!
  I am not studying, I’m reading a book!
  
  The general agreement with the chap is that no one should bring lap tops, gadgets etc to the R&R because, its 2 days, for two days, the world can wait, and I hate it when sometimes in the middle of a break he will wait until I’m asleep then start working!!! While me I want him to stay in bed we cuddle, catch strokes and he beats me storos and we order room service, and I jump jump on the bed, and then we shag, we sleep, we go walk, have masssages, we go eat, maaannn!!! Usually, he drugs me (makes me drink too much) pretends to listen as I prattle on, I sleep, he starts working. So, no gadgets. I could therefore not google it!!! Later, I tried going online on phone…no luck.
  
  I called asking for a dictionary…..mwehheh “A what Miss KM?” “An English Dictionary”. Why don’t they keep dictionaries with the towels, which I did not have the strength to steal this time. I have too many towels now. Nice huuge, soft spanking cuddly white and maroon ones, some with bold logos.
  Them and their little babies. I steal them in sets, 2 big ones and two hand towels. Mwehehhee, you'd think I feel any remorse......Instead, I’m thinking of starting to steal other things now…..like the feather pillows…..***luuuusshhhh*** What the heck, kick kleptomaniacy up a notch. Maybe, and I'm just mulling this over, not decideed yet.....Maybe. I'll see about the logistics. Yaani its soo bad, and the chap is in on it, cos when we are leaving he goes "are you taking the towels?" Then I'll go like, "ah, no, these ones are not new".
  
  Shoot! Thats how Matheri et friends converse, seriously, like the other day I got this weird caller going "leta zile bunduki kawangware twende job" (Brings the guns!!) I promise to you, he said that!!!
  Sheesh, who even uses the word 'Bunduki' now? Shouldn't thugs have like a cool cryptic word like "Mtoo' or "cargo" for that?! Its like saying Vagina.....Punani, hello?! Vagina is soooo.. "body organ" not source of pleasure!
  I was so spooked! especially, because they (the thugs) will trace me so I dont sell 'em out, or when it shoots to shit, Safaricom might trace the call to me, and then I was worried that someone was going to maybe be robbed!! yikes!
  
  So, me, and my “O god what is a giffen good now?!”I was traumatized! I went clubbing later, and I was still, get that, thinking about it. Daaammmmnnnn, giffen good!!!
  So, I got home last evening, and went straight to google. Ohhhh the wealth of information there is. …..So, finally;
  
  “Definition: A Giffen Good is a good that experiences increased demand for when the price rises and decreased demand for when the price falls”.
  
  I mean, duuude, I was here and I was clicking and clicking on those links and reading about all that random stuff. It fels sooo damn good! And the thing I was trying to remember, how bread is a Giffen good, because it violates the basic laws of demand and supply……As Mr. Giffen has pointed out, a rise in the price of bread makes so large a drain on the resources of the poorer labouring families and raises so much the marginal utility of money to them, that they are forced to curtail their consumption of meat and the more expensive farinaceous foods: and, bread being still the cheapest food which they can get and will take, they consume more, and not less of it”
  
  ***breathes a sigh of relief*** Ah! There it is!Just like Mr ‘dunnowhatwashisnameheflunkedmeanyway said it.
  
  Theeen, si season 3 of prison break! I watched the preview last night...what the hell is with that SONA place? I don't think I'll keep up with such violence me.
  Dude, I hated Bellick but, woiyeeeeee. .
• September 06, 2007
• 18:20

  The ENGLISH PATIENT

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  
  
  
  **Breathes in, breathes out** I need to get this outta my system.
  
  So, yesterday was the chap’s birthday.
  He hates birthdays, and all celebrations centred around him etc. Now meeee, being the nice girlfriend, I decide to throw him a treat before his party on Sato which is happening whether he wants it or not. The treat? Me!!!
  
  I weighed all my options, and long after I had eliminated jumping out of a lifesize cake with poms poms and kicking my feet all over, clumsily so, dare I add, and doing the “give me an S- give me a W-, give me an E-…. Goooooo Sweetie!!”, I settled for dinner and a vision of me in lingerie.
  For real, I mean that would be a refreshing change from my standard gear. Scorching Yellow Tshirt, with holes on the saggy neckline boldly emblazoned “Pamoja tuangamize Ukimwi” .
  That by all means, is a mood Killa! Not so much the colour, the huuuuge fit, but by the time you get past the Abstain, Be faithful, Use a Condom flashing neon warning, you might to wrap somene in cellophane just because they are male and you are female/ or bothe of you are male. Or both of you are female.....you gerrit.
  Then again, when we say jumping out of cake, where will my ass which is unrelenting in its outward protrusion going to be stashed? Too messy.
  
  So, I had a plan;
  
  -leave work early
  -yoga class
  -make dinner
  -Pick dude up
  -show him good time
  
  I have to tell you, my Yoga instructor is this tiny, little lady who looks like she is going to eat me. I’m making, (rather more trying and erring) a perfect circle and ‘feeling the anger leave me” and she keeps staring at my errant behind like a piece of steak.
  Of course she wants to eat me. One side of my ass could feed here and her 'little people' family for months!! All I’m saying…don’t marinate me in honey. I’m allergic.
  Dinner was going to be Ugali, perfectly marinated (not in honey) beef, a nice salad, a good bottle of wine….
  
  So I get home, my ass intact, No, she did not eat me, she is fattening me up…I take about an hour to cook and get ready. The ugali, I was going to cook when I got back so it does not get cold.
  Then, I dash out to pick him up. He went to the coast in the morning, he is coming back in the evening.
  He does.
  Buuut! I noticed as he approached me…the man is sweating like a wild hog!!!! Ngutness.
  
  Now, me, the thought crossed my mind to ignore the fact that he looks not so good, assume he is hyperventilating, I mean, lets face it, he’s 34, his life is over, then proceed with my plan undeterred.
  So, I hug him, do my happy birythday thing. “yaay! Happy Birthaday!.
  His response was well….out of the norm.
  
  CHAP: “KM, I’m dying”
  
  LOOOOL. Okay, not a good way to start the birthday is it?
  
  KM: what’s wrong?
  
  CHAP: I’m dying. I feel so sick.
  
  KM: If you are doing this to get out of your birthday, that’s really lame, I haven’t planned anything.
  
  CHAP: KM, I’m dying, I need to lie down”
  
  Soooo, my sweaty sweetie decides ok, maybe if he chatters (is that the word?) his teeth, I’ll get the gravity of it.
  Which he does, which I chose to not acknowledge primarily because, this is the one time I am seeing him this unwell and I’m racking my brain for what to do. Usually, he will drink water to cure headaches, a shot of tequila for a cold etc. And also because what would I say
  Dude? Are your teeth chattering? . How ingenous!
  
  Eventually, I toss my shawl around him, which he wraps around his diseased self…but the teeth gnashing/chattering soldiers on.
  
  All this time, pardon my vanity, I’m thinking “shoot! I should have made this beef on Sunday". Ala! It’s a waste.
  
  So I sit next to him and ask
  
  KM: How are you feeling?
  Chap: **groaan** I’m sick. Turn on the AC, are you not feeling cold? Do you think I’ll die?
  
  (I know, from my little knowledge, that sometimes rhetorical questions like these are a plea for re-assurance. I don’t give that, I go for the jugular)
  
  KM: Of course you are going to die. OMG, is that blood oozing form your ears?
  
  **he shoots me a I cant believe you are joking about this look**
  
  All my feeble attempts to cheer him up were well…feeble.
  
  KM: How are you feeling?
  
  CHAP: Like I will die
  
  KM: As in exactly how?
  
  CHAP: ***grooooaaan** What do you mean how? I dunno. I have never died before!
  
  (LOL, he is sick, and funny...what a keeper)
  
  I turn up the music a little bit
  
  CHAP: **Reaches out and puts it down to a whisper** KM my head is aching!
  
  (And cranky too)
  
  THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG EVENING
  
  SO I do the logical thing. Take him to hospital.
  
  I do not consult him because he wil say "NO, I’ll be fine, I just need a nap".
  
  Here’s the thing with chaps. When they are ill, they will crawl into bed, REFUSE TO TAKE MEDICINE and claim over n over that their life is over. Women? We will cook, clean and find your other sock while the other hand is cutting the umbilical chord.
  
  At the hospital…..(He did not object to it when he found out about the detour).
  You should have seen how he crawled into the doctors room! Some chaps really thrive on exaggeration.
  
  Halafu I could have sworn he was scribbling down a will while we waited. Leaving me nothing! Thats for sure considering “she does not believe I’m dying. Why is she so calm? Or did she poison me?” even after I have exemplified awesomeness all these years!
  Like seriously, Winnie Mandela? 27 years, Go figure.
  So she assaulted, murdered, kidnapped, pilfered, was professionally incompetent and then there was the serial infidelity. Surely 27 years! Should that not be atonement?
  Mandiba, Baba, I love you, applaud you and admire you. You know how people hyperventilate at the “if you had to ask Mandela 1 question what would it be?" And they are coming up with huge words like ‘detractors’, humanity, patriotism, bla…me, simple “Daddi, ala! What went down with you and Winnie?”
  
  Anwyay, back home in Nairobi, A teeth chattering-shivering boyfriend was with the doctor.
  He comes back with this chit, lab test, I mean, he is just going, in the most pitiful way that “he told me to wait for the results”
  So I look at him like he who?
  He gives me a “he the doctor, my friend, the one who will save my life not you who does not care”
  Shoot! This is criminal haki. Throwing yourself a pity party of this magnitude surely is criminal!!!
  The test came out….he has more malaria than a little village in Kilifi combined.
  Mwehehe, to be totally honest, I knew it was, but I did not want to tell him that cos he might bite my head off and go “Boohoooo. you are not the expert okay! That’s why you are a struggling **insert mundane proffesion** and NOT A DOCTOR**. Plus yes. I'm not a doctor. I comment on matters about whichI posses expert opinion. Few if any.
  
  How I knew, is that the last time we traveled to the Coast, I took my meds while incredible hulk over there a.k.a “looks whose teeth are chattering now” refused to because he is invincible and mayhaps invisible to bugs while, I? .....I’m just your regular control freak.
  
  On the drive back home;
  
  CHAP: KM, I’m gonna die
  
  KM: Not on your birthday. Happy birthday
  
  CHAP: Shit I’m sooo oooold!
  
  The pity party is obviously unrelenting.
  
  
  Surely, does this guy? This one, this guy, chair Board meetings without breaking into a “awww shott! We are fugged. We are going Under. OMG we will be all over the news” panic attack? How now?
  
  We get home. I was tired. The doctor said the meds are strong, so he needs to eat well before he takes them.
  So much for a night of showing him a good time “I charge you good price for you my friend, sucky, sucky, mmmmm Ming Lee do it very nice but only for you”.
  
  Its bad enough that the damn man does not want to eat cos “Juice is fine, I had lunch”, but to have to eat KM’s dinner? Punishment is what.
  
  So I go rattle pots and pans, comes out with something at the end of it, and I even make him some chicken soup.
  While I’m in the kitchen, I keep checking on him, he was really silent and considering how many times he floated the dying theme around, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. He kept drifting in and out fo sleep, hallucinating random crap like “No, please don’t kill me” “KM, how could you! You said you loved me!” and lifting his head from the pillow when he saw me hovering around to ask “KM is the food ready or should I take the meds now because I feel like I’m dying” UGHHHHHH!
  
  At 10 oclock, I emerged from the torture chamber i.e kitchen with a half bent nail **grits teeth** with something(s) for him to eat.
  
  The poor pooor thing was so feverish, all the duvets, still sweating and you- know- what- he- was- doing -with- his -teeth.
  He took one look at the food and goes
  “I can’t eat. I will throw up. Please give me juice KM. I’m parched".
  **makes an up-down motion to his throat as if, duh kwani what else does parched mean?**
  It could mean that he was settled on a tree like a bird, but, that’s with an “e”, plus it would be sooo out of context.
  
  I ignored his pleas for a drop of water Lazarus, and about half an hour later, KP and Gabi had nothing on me! There was war!!! and after a myriad of puke threats,I won, he was fed, took his meds and I gave him some lucozade. He was incensed at my nerve. Negro please!
  He made a point to let his sister and brothers know that “he was dying” when all they did was innocently call to wish him a happy birthday. Sigh.
  
  My lingerie and I crawled into bed. Exhausted. He still wanted to get down. More of ego really than anything else. “look at me, I can do it on my death bed” The nerve! Him and his sweaty self now how? I don’t mind sweat, but I prefer activity sweat to illness sweat! Eeeewwww
  So, I did not grant his deathwish, because also, a little part of me felt like I was taking advantage of him.
  
  I get into the bed. K.A.L.A.H.A.R.I heloooo!!! 900 degrees, I’m looking for cool corners of the bed and I can feel waves of his fever coming at me. Sighhh!!!
  His teeth would stop chattering, then he would remember and start all over lest I forget the recurring evening theme….”dying”
  Eventually, he slept. Like a baby, his body cooled down and I just looked at his sleeping self and almost shed a tear vile, that’s a hard way to have a birthday.
  
  He was up and well this morning, still has some meds to go, which I know will be a battle to finish but I hope he knows he will finish those things even if I have to mix them in his food cos, hell no! I cannot have too much of him when he is like that.
  
  I was late for work, Drat! This is why career women who hold their families intact are the 8th wonder of the world. He said a mortified “thanks. I’m sorry. We’ll do it right next year”.
  At some point I thought, you know he really hates attention and would much rather the birthday went unnoticed so he feigned the illness….the fever? I dunno how he did that!
  
  
  Music Video Codes
  
  
  Robin Thicke - Lost Without You
• September 05, 2007
• 19:14

  Happy Birthday Baby

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  Birthday  

  
  
  
  To one still older and better,
  To one whom I have known long, and accompanied far,
  Whom I have found wakeful over my sickness and kind in my sorrow,
  
  Glad in my prosperity and firm in my adversity,
  True in counsel and trusty in peril,
  To a friend often tried and never found wanting.....
  
  I love you, so much, too much, a little more each day my baby
  
  

  
  
  Craig David- Unbelievable
  
  I hope your 34th birthday brings you the best still,
  That you will be so much more blessed
  
  
  Paaaartttty timmmeeeeee!!!!
  No, I will not get you a handbag for your birthday so i can say 'dude, you don't want it? Ok, I'll take it"....
  
  I hope you have a great time,
  Happy birthday my sweet.
  
  

  
  
  Green Day- Time of your life
  
  Love, Much Love and More,
  KM
• September 03, 2007
• 5:19

  Goodie…I attended Carol Atemi’s Album launch…..the gal ...

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Goodie…I attended Carol Atemi’s Album launch…..the gal can siiing!! Daaamn! Rock on chica!!!
  
  Our very own India Arie....yummm. Take a listen.....
  
  
  powered by ODEO
  
  Alafu, I was out club hopping on Friday. Good times! Great friends, great conversation, great laughs…..perfect. I went from Slims-Pitcher&Butch - Blue times- Galileo-Rezorus-Black diamond-Mercury….all in a night.
  
  I have to tell ya! Rezorus VIP is like Nairobi’s best secret!! Maybe not…but I like it. Its small, private and the loo smells really nice. Yes, I know, I have pledged my loyalty and traded my disdain for crowded clubs and Kenyan teenagers for VIP….the atrocities whose chief aim is the exclusion of others, mwehehehe.
  I speak against it as vehemently as I do about child prostitution, children in armed conflict and all optional and protocols reaaly on top of the main treaty, LOL, seriously, I babble on......that makes me cry oodles and oodles of tears. Its like I'm reading up on something and I have PMS, and I'll start crying and the chap will go
  
  Chap: "ala! whats up?"
  KM: "its these kids...Imagine bla bla bla..."
  (chap draws a blank look, and a straw then...)
  Chap: "Ok, KM, I'll go work a lil bit, I'll see you later.
  KM: Noooo, please dont leave me?...then,
  KM: (teary and yelling) Fine you go work! I don't understand why you cant be there for me! The least you can do is give me a hug and just I donno, hang around
  Chap: I am not hanging around! **comes to give me a hug, I reject it because, yep, its a pity hug, he did not want to do it....
  
  PMS is such a ughhhhh haki!
  
  Well, file that under “B for babbling” but as I was saying, who am I kidding, my wallet carries about 8 VIP access cards to pretentiousness. How you ask? How not?
  
  I gotta tell ya, I have this friend of mine who has no single card, None! Not one! Kwani he knows only nondescripts? I mean, we can all say there is that one freind of a rela who has managed to0 get out of the rat race........LOL, the daily grind, and mayhaps can hook you up with, I dunno, like a free ticket to something? anything...Him! NOTHING!!!
  
  So since half my time is spent ducking outside to get him in as 'my guest', I tell him, look, I know someone who can get you a card to **insert some joint where you have to drink blood and walk in naked…wait for it….Backwards!!! ***, LOL I mean, he has Tamasha, Bah! who needs that now? It’s not VIP, Tamasha is like, sooo last century, I dunno, card or not, you pay at the entrance and get in.
  
  VIP? Real card, embossed, "Miss KM. This card admits two". Dare I add sijui 1 % off manicures at **insert salon** , okay I kid, thats fod Diva account, but Ala, and even with all the money, you cannot pay at the entrance to get into VIP, that’s the difference. You’ll kaaa huko and scream for the waiter till your voice gets hoarse. VIP service is never shitty, thats a start. Damn! I’mma burn for this. Please remind me this when I fall out with the who’s who and my memberships gets revoked…that would be funny.
  
  So this dude keeps telling me how, eti VIP sucks, eti he wouldn’t take the card if he had it for free. Yeah dude, no one is offering you any but so I calmly ask him, "so why do I have to get you in all the time?" He says "cos you guys are there...its the company!!" Dude! yeah, company is better in VIP that it is on a katable where you have squished yourself like cabbage from shags! Aiii? How is being in Sohos/Rezorus/Galileo/Afrique etc VIP a bad thing when you have the option of going into the regular club when you like? Negro pris, don’t blend with the grass out of envy!
  
  The only people who speak against VIP are those who can’t get in. And if you think VIP sucks ass, sure dude, whatever....I'll sit on the sofa while you sit on a ‘sina taabu’, throw in the fact that VIP folks can have the best of both worlds and, oh just zip it! You don’t gats VIP, chin up m’kay?
  
  Mwehehhe, I kid you not, I hate to be associated with VIP, cos people judge you that’s why. Funny, those people who judge will kill you and your sorry existence to get VIP access. *shrugs* whatever!
  
  So from VIP in Rez, you can hear the wonderful music coming form Rez Wananchi up there (LOL, that word is not mine, I heard it from someone to refer to the club). And every single time, I sneak into Wananchi to get a load of the music….1 word. YUCK! People bodies are hoot (temperetaure not decorum) halafu, smh! Let me watch music from TV me cos my stiletto heels are not going to fight for legroom like that.
  
  Aiiiii Halafu, right across Rezorus, is this new joint called Black Diamond. Great music, balcony but all they are doing is attract the crowd from Rez wananchi so *shrugs* Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
  Halafu dare I add…AC? M.I.A. None! Woi its hot!!!!! I was wondering why until the chap told me that, people drink more when its like that, aaand, they can cool off at the balcony, but the thought of cooling off, comes right after they get that extra cold drink. What a genius!!! I will have his baby. As soon as I’m ready to throw the present perfection, if you can call it that, that is thunder thighs and distended belly to the dogs. I mean, I look like this now....what will I look like after a baby? Chaos is what.
  
  There’s a reason why people like me are not blessed with mad cash. First off, now meeee, who hyperventilates through mall windows, you can always tell, the wet marks, palm prints and warm breath at the windows a la KM was here…would be accorded the luxury of getting in and buying the whole damn shop. For the same reason I get anal about VIP. I mean, look, I’m mouthing off about clubs, someone owns them!!! Thats what I should be focussing on right now!! Owning clubs
• August 24, 2007
• 15:59

  I'm Saaaaary. Hot chics, geeks etc

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  
  
  
  I have been walking around all day singing…mimi, na huyu demmm, tunapendana kila sehemmm. Vaileti wewe ndio keki hao wengine ni fekii. Sigh, I refrain from commenting.
  
  
  **Grudgingly saunters in, unleashes apology note**
  Following my majorly politically incorrect post.....throw in duress, I have a few apologies to make
  
  RE: GEEKS
  
  They rock.
  
  Geeks in unison: Sorry, we can't hear you
  
  KM: Okkkkaaaayyy! ALright! Sheesh! Geeks Rock. Geeks Rule!!! Je m'excuse.
  
  RE: PRETTY WOMEN
  **Grits teeth**. You know what? I'm all for world peace but NO, I won't apologise for that. Hot mamas are EVIL. LOL. they caused the holoucast, what more do you want?
  
  Pretty women are the reason plain Janes like me;
  - Have to read newspappers so we can attract chaps with brains
  
  - Have to be funny
  
  - They are the cause of the breakouts on my face
  
  - They are the cause of my thunder thighs
  
  - They are the cause of the *sigh* lifebelt around my tummy masquerading as a stomach.
  
  But seriously, let me tell you my worst nightmare. The real WMD. Its not even beauty and brains combined. That's so last century. In this day and age, being hot and brainy is every woman's birthright. And that stuff is very relative. If KM can bag a man, surely, that stuff must be relative. Truss me, every duckling has a story.
  
  Me? What scares me? **shivers** ....GOOD COOKS.
  
  For the longest time, people wander around thinking Hitler is evil....I'll tell you evil....women that cook really really well. Like my Auntie, the Swiss schooled chef. Dude! Her husband is home by 6 evryday!! Latest 6.01. Such women, right thurr is your neon light/police line...do not cross.
  
  There is a reason why that "the way to a man's heart....." phrase was coined. I beg to differ. There are other ways...lots of other ways, (I know, how do you think those who cannot cook get holidays?). By the way, throwing the occasional laugh at his *rolls eyes** oooold jokes gives you mileage.
  Until you cave in and go "dude! I dont want to hear that joke again! Ever!" He will still tell you the joke and I'll say "remember when we first met and you told me the joke and laughed really hard? refer to that".
  I mean, I'm all for he's dead funny but lines have to be drawn.
  
  I was saying..... I beg to differ, but I am not dumb enough to tempt fate.
  I am lucky that my burnt dinners and half ready pancakes get eaten. Seriously though, I'm a great cook...its just that I get home so tired and I dont want to ruin my nails. I know my mother would have a problem with that. *shrugs* its what it is.
  
  There's a reason why my heart flutters when he says "hun please make me that yummy rice you make" Sniff. Awww, Thats all I'm good for. Rice, Fish and beef.
  
  I DO NOT slave over Chapati anymore. Why now? I discovered Nakumatt frozen chaps **ducks rock from livid mummy** but they suck. So, thats what my househelp is for. She comes over, she makes them and leaves. I come home, I cut 'em up, and serve them. She who serves carries tha day. My mum has gotten away with that for years. She serves my father the food my auntie the chef made, and my father compliments HER! Alas!
  
  And yes, my help is OOOOOLLLDDD. Like 70. I leave nothing to chance...cos the only women that can cook that are NOT evil, are septuagenarians plus. Anything below 70, can you spell D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R? Okay, maybe 60.
  
  What would break my heart is if my dude ate at another woman's house (defined herein as anyone bel0w 35 that is a good cook). I know it comes naturally for him, and indeed all the men in my life to lie to me "I don't know why you think you put in too much soy sauce....I'm enjoying!!" Awwwww, Bless! Especially because he sips some juice right after that..... Mwehehhe.
  
  Everytime I serve him a meal, you should know the side dish to my every meal is an excuse.
  
  "Chicken and baby, I think I added too much salt"
  
  "spaghetti and hun, the sauce is too tangy, I don't know why, its the same one I use always"
  
  ""Ugali and aiii, i don't know why that nyaks in not soft. I cooked it forever! Sema sweetie"
  
  But every time, evey single time....he cleans it all up and goes "wow, that was great!". Again, I have my reasons for loving him. He never says No to anything I offer him, (To eat/Consume/ Ughhh! , get your minds out of the gutter...to partake in **sighs** A cooked meal. There!).
  
  I should apologise also to memorable jokes, but aiii, I see he has stepped up the jokes a notch. Auuuuiiiii!!! 30 jokes for the price of one. Tihiii.
  
  Yeah, I apologise for all that stuff.
  Hugs all.
  Happy weekend.
• August 23, 2007
• 15:27

  Randomize

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  
  
  Aheem.
  
  
  **grabs pillow*
  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
  
  Right, Ok, moving on.....
  I will pay anyone to do this job that my evil, evil, evil, eeeeeeeviiil boss is insisting I can do. I kid, he is the most awesome guy like eveeeeer!I'm not defeatist AT ALL, but I know I am not a techie, or a geek and NO sir, I cannot create a tracking tool if I tried really, not with all these variables.....can't the geeks do it? pleeaseeee. This is not what I had in mind when I asked for mentoring!
  I have even googled like "excel track analyse external data"...nooothing.yeah, I know, its too ambigous. I can see from a distance that there is programming involved here. All that "If Rwanda then Go 10" Okkkay, so I was blending juice to sell instead of attending techie classes. Again as I said, if I wanted to be a resident geek, maybe, maybe I'd be a geek ok? I'm not mentioning names. Thinker, mental, Whiteafrican, Kikuyumoja, yeah I are (loool, yes, i know people are getting tired of me keeping on with that, I'mma milk it 1 week more max) onto your 'I-like-to-pretend-am-not-a-geek-act'. Face it ok, you wore glasses in class 1 and when all of us (we, the cool ones) were playing shake and NOT including you because you would mess with our cool factor, you went and actually learnt how to do geeky stuff.
  I have options. A rich husband or burst.
  Ain't it sad that like geeks, end up marrying the pretty chics, so like the pretty mamas don't have to suffer all their life. I mean, they had no esteem issues while growing up, halafu they bag a reformed geek, now millionare. How cool is that!
  In line with geeks.....And yes, today i'm lining myself up for crimes against humanity cos damn, my stilletos have crushed toes there! Don't you just hate it when people know who they are and what they want, in and out of blog? Like How Bankelele is you financial sense guy...and you huku really gaddamn can't cut a niche....you tittilate betweeen rubbish and stepped-up-a-notch-crap.....Just awesome! Or, Hmmm, ...wait for it....that memorable jokes chap. **breathes in, breathes out, releases him into the universe ** cos hot damn, the (wo)man can clog the aggregator on any given Sunday. As in thank Mary's Sandals that I do not control that aggregator tondu because....**grits teeth* Jokes guy, OUT NI NJA! (out is outside).
  Can we go back to the place where seriously, why again am I doing this.....numbers are a big part of my job, damn right, I look at them and write a report that what numbers do for me.... but I know I am not meant to make databases more than once in 5 years.....sniiiiifffff or ever, dear God.
  I got a B+ in Math ok?! I was that bad...seriously I cried..That's what A students do when they get a B+. They cry. Mwehhehe.
  Theeeen, you guys......can we begin with the fact that really I am trying to generate a graph with two y axis-es (tihi) and the secondary one keeps coming on top...UGHHH. Some small fuglee afraid of being seen thing. This is excel...how much do I suck seriously!!!
  I want it to be beside and not a small one like you cant even see it, wtf is it? a retard? why is it not behaving and dont tell me abourt sijui re-arranging data cos I WONT! You know how stressed I get when I cant get stuff done...I get so stressed, and angry and I erm, sort of like, umm, start to cry with fury...*smh* I know... "KM that is not good for you, that thing you do when things don't go your way".....I'm sorry, I forget how many times my mum dragged me home crying because I came second in swimming or (insert any other competition ever). Like, I kjnow I cannot play table tennis, yeeeet, I tried for about 4 years. WTH, its for losers! Dude, man, I dont take that stuff well.
  
  You know what...I'll figure that out. I could just give up, but you know what. I'll do it just to prove a point...whcich escapes me at this point, but yes, there is a point therein.
  That besides....am I loving my hair or whaaaat? Its awesome. Awesome cool funky hair. I love it.
  And there is this person...who is annoying me.
  Yes you, person, **points manicured..... (yeah, its acrylics but thats between me and jesus), bejewelled, damn right its platinum -finger** you know yourself...you and your fish and chips accent **puhleeze!** how now? Step away from the bullshit sir! Dude, you are so sucking major ass right now.
• July 26, 2007
• 7:39

  8 things, UGH

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Butterfly tagged me. Ugh! Me vile I yak, I have exceeded my mystery quota…but I will do the tag with the format from halfnhalf and Archer...buuut, if I tag you, ehe, ngoja tu.
  
  1. Where is your cell phone…In my bag
  
  2. Relationship… works most of the time when he is not snoring. Feh! if he stops snoring I think he is dead so I put my finger under his nose to check is he is breathing...ummm, TMI, it works, lets just say that.
  
  3. Your hair…. Dreadlocks that look like some afro..ugh, strange
  
  4. Work…addicted to it
  
  5. Your sisters…. 1. strong, grounded, funny as hell, out of this world, beautiful, married, one spoilt son
  
  6. Your favorite things…. Sex, laughter Shoes, Jewelery, Scents, books that smell oooold
  
  7. Your dream last night…I don’t remember. I don't think i dream me
  
  8. Your favorite drink….Tusker malt,Tequila, Tia Maria (Oh look! All T’s)
  
  9. Your dream car….LOL, dunno too much about cars but Range Rover TDV8
  
  10. The room you’re in….blue. Its a boy!! light blue walls, deep blue carpet
  
  11. Your shoes…Black pumps
  
  12. Your fears….poverty/financial insecurity
  
  13. What do you want to be in 10 years…phenomenal at what I'm doing now
  
  14. Who did you hang out with this weekend…my dude, his boys and their mates (gag, I know, everyone else was busy)
  
  15. What are you not good at…patience for rubbish people or rubbish ideas
  
  16. Muffins? No thanks
  
  17. Wish-list item…Apple Black Macbook *whistles*
  
  18. Where you grew up…Meru-Nairobi-Blantyre-Nairobi-Meru
  
  19. The last thing you did… Send an email/giggle
  
  20. What are you wearing…Cream skirt, black sweater top, pearls (real ones kulahiyo, not them kenpoly plastic ones peeps wear), black stockings
  
  21. What are you not wearing… watch/bullshit on my sleeve/heart on my sleeve/a chair/ a desk/ whothefuckcameupwiththis awfullyambiguosquestion!!!!!
  
  22. Your favorite pet…I have none but I would love a puppy
  
  23. Your computer…needs backing up
  
  24. Your life…does not have enough hours in any given weekday
  
  25. Your mood…mellow today
  
  26. Missing…Dormans boozy Kioki coffee. ssssssureeely hic, isssshh hic, very hic hic cooold
  
  27. What are you thinking about… sending an email to Shiro, *smh* kesho mami, I promise!!
  
  28. Your dream location… Morocco
  
  29. Your Ex… Just told me he needs socks (!)
  
  30. Your Favorite Item… My new blackberry...I love you, you love me, we are a happy family......
  
  31. Your favorite colour…Not sure, when I see it, I know If I like it or not, maybe creams, beiges, earthy browns.
  
  32. Last time you laughed…last night
  
  33. Last time you cried…19th July 2007.
  
  34. School…I need to hand in some assignments
  
  35. Love … is not too bad if you get it right.
  
  Now who to tag that has not done the tag...Consider thyself tagged;
  
  Muts
  Thinker
  Udi
  Ms K
  Mama Gabi
  Shiro
  Prou
  Medusa
  
  If I have tagged you, you are NOT to use that format that I have used!! That one is boring. You write your own stuff like kila mtu else...yes, 8 random fact/habits about you!
• July 23, 2007
• 17:16

  KM and the bush

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Usually I don't mind it. Going to the bushes.
  
  As long as I have sunscreen, water, apples, crackers, wet wipes, hand sanitizer (for all the hands I cannot avoid shaking) a translator, security and I travel in comfort with a driver who will not talk toooo much like that M***, Ngutness! he never shuts up, kila saaa stories stories.......UGH! *gasps for breath* Seriously I am so not like some people who need to travel with their sijui bags full of make up ........*shrugs* For what now vile there is not even a place to shower or electricity or chaps to impress sijui with Long lash Mascra...how now??
  This one though was the harshest harshest trip eeeeeverrrrr. For 2 days I did not eat vile *gaaaaag* and on the third day, close to breakdown, I closed my eyes and ate something.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mi Casa. The roof houses only like 50003 bats with human like faces that hang like pendulums on the roof...ewwwwww, they don't fall in..there is a mesh but they make munching sounds and all. Eeeek! and the whole house reeks of bat poo. Cool bananas! How fast can you say Hardship? Per diem?
  
  
  

  This Fugleee *smh* I started calling him/it Abdullahi because it lived in the compound and everytime I got out of my hut, it would be there in all its fuglee glory yukk! Eating soil!!!! and I would yell at the dude who wanted to convert me into Islam so he could marry me *shrugs* he does not have enough head of camel to sustain my town habits me....to come take it away and Abu would just saunter off with his tail at a 90 degree angle.
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Then you set off in search of human signs, babies to be precise or pregnant mummies...not that you can tell....what with the buibui and all?
  
  
  
  
  Stop to do pee pee on the way and take a shika kiuno pic...mwehehe, fret not ...no one cares that I have not had a proper bath in 3 days....
  
  but when you get to where the people are you have to cover up....and the top too
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Human signs.....yaaaay!!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  And Looook!!!! A hospital!!!!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  With a place where if you are bold enough to climb, you may get phone network...
  
  
  
  Network......NOOOOOT.
  
  
  
  
  And adorable Hawa not feeling too good and she walked for about 30KM with her mummy to come to hospital *sniff* Sometimes she walked, sometimes mummy carrioed her...*sniff*..... but she is going to get better
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  And when you get back to town....you can have henna on your feet by the woman who makes the brides pretty ......She would not let me tell her what to paint because we could not comminucate so she did her own things. Not too bad.
  
  
  
  And some more Henna
  
  Finished foot. It will fade off in two weeks so *shrugs* It looks very pretty though, I like it.
  
  
  And a henna flower on my tatas...
  
  
  
  
• July 13, 2007
• 18:11

  K"Naan, Joss and the Gypsy

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  Music  

  Someone traveled and got me some K’Naan Music, and a copy of “Introducing Joss stone” among other things. Yaay!
  
  Can you blame me? Can you blame me if I hugged that chap mad huh? This one whose expression of choice for when a dude hits on me (they are few. Extremely few circumstances when a man actually ever hits on me. Usually I get surprised when anyone hits on me *smh*) is
  
  Dude: “KM who were you meeting?
  KM: “some dude who needed xyz”
  Dude: “Oh. Is he throwing maize?”
  KM: “what?”
  Dude: “is he throwing maize?”
  
  Smh, its so funny. It cracks me up. Hitting on a woman is "throwing maize".
  There is something very ish about it…..like I mean, like catching a chicken…luring it with maize halafu vile the chicken is always so woiyeeeeee when its caught. Plus I mean, the chicken is dumb…it was so stupid it fell for the maize trap.
  Throwing maize. Tihii.
  
  Onto Music matters.....
  Everybody are we loving her? Are we not totally loving Joss Stone…We love Joss. I don’t care what anyone says, she had me at ‘spoiled’ and 'right to be wrong' and 'snakes and ladders' and ...actually every song...from her Mind Body and Soul album and I am loving her again in her new album, 'Introducing Joss stone" and the track with Common in 'Tell me what we are gonna do now"...swellness.....'when we combine it's like good food and wine .....'
  
  And we are loving K’Naan as always. He was phenomenal in “The dusty foot Philosopher”..."smile", "in the beginning" "what's Hardcore" "I was stabbed by satan". Out of this world!!!
  I heard his music, the fantastic song "smile".......never let them see you down smile while you bleeding..... first at a house party for one of those weird peoples who like to hug trees and stuff and like to maintain their karmic balance while muching on lettuce and carrots like rabbits and being kind to animals and stuff, (even CATS!!! Now how? Cats suck ass. Me I'm always on the look out for cats to roadkill vile those things are so yukky. Feh! Need I add Lazy?)
  
  Small digression
  Speaking of Cats..what the hell is it with Cats and dogs around the news? Mara Cats breastfeeding puppies, Dogs breastfeeding Cats.....aii, animals in Kenya are so crazy. Remember the Lioness and the Oryx that had people saying how God is coming back eti cos the bible said about "lions and sheep grazing together" (not sure of the bible verse). Halafu, tihii, that woman on TV yesterday going "huyo PUSSI!! (yes, not paka..pussi) anawanyonyesa(sic) kama watoto WAE (not wake, WAE)".....
  
  Uhhhh and does anyone remember the time people were told to catch chameleons and get paid 1G for every sick lil shaitty reptile (reptiles and amphibians are so eeeeeky), and they were unleashing them in gunny bags eti "shika hikio(sic) kinapotea" LMAOOOOO *smh* Kenyans. Special sana. They were not paid. It was all a hoax and ...wait for it...most of them had skived jobbo to go nab chameleones huko in the bushes.
  I can just see it. Asking for a sick day off then disapperaing into the thickets with a gunia slung over my shoulder.
  ....ENDS DIGRESSION.
  
  So, yeah, this mama.... **waits while you go huko up pre-digression to figure out which mama** Ok? Good. So no fur kind, you will find her lobbying outside PEPFAR offices on a cold winter morning with a placard, NOT for an increase in AIDS funding or for more affordable ARVs, naaah, for erm uhhh, I dunno..the fact that someone from the PEPFAR office ran over a mongrel in Mozambique and was never held accountable....Okay, so I am like going way over the top, but you know, she be passionate 'n all..... gipsies who do no evil but smoke ganja like to achieve their balance. What are those people called? The ones who say;
  
  Weirdo: KM!!! how can you eat beef? How would you feel if someone killed you and ate you?
  
  KM: Ummmmmmm, well, *bites into burger*, I mean, I would obviously be upset that they are eating me but, I mean, how much influence can I have when I'm dead over.....Okay, wait, why would they wnat to eat me in the first place?
  
  Weirdo: (Nodding like yeah, thats what I mean) ... yeah, maybe you should ask the cow that before you eat it.
  
  FCOL!!!! Ask the cow?!! Ask the cow!!!
  
  Well, the CD.... I loved it. I got that CD burned and I have never regretted it. He is so awesome that unless you listen really, I cannot tell you what K'naan is. He is way way up there, way too good.
  And now I finally have a listen to his world tour in the "Dusty foot on the road", which includes some tracks from philosopher that sound even greater.
  
  He is fabulous! I would not have blogged it but I heard him on BBC today and went "OMG! and I so have that CD" and he was great! And he was expalining his lyrics in 'What's Hardcore' when he says "if i rhyme about home, and got descriptive, i'd make 50 cent look like limp bizkit, " mwehhehe, kula hiyo Fiticent.....and he was expalining the difference between this superimposed almost glorified version of violence that dominates the rap industry and comparing it with the kind of violence he understands, like in Mogadishu...the kind that you have no control over. It was deep, and I was amazed and well, maybe thats not how he said it but errrm....*shrugs*
  
  So yeah, there, get yourself a copy.
  Halafu...the coooooldd! It came with its babies yaani this cold but tell you what, If you go to a Dormans that serves boozy coffee...it will really really warm you up or help you forget how bloody cold it is!!
• July 05, 2007
• 13:05

  Flirting in traffic and radio

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Let me tell something to jyou (yes, jyou…think Happy Feet) Tihiiiii, just this morning I was flirting with some dude in traffic. *smh* He was just so….waaaait, waaaait, wait for it…hoooot. That’s hot (think Paris). He’s hot.
  Initially I was staring at his wheels. His metallic black X5 to be precise. Auuuuiiiiiiiiiii. ‘nuff sed.

  So now, I have stared and then suddenly, well, I think he noticed vile I was blatant and I did not think he could see me through the tint ( silly, I know! thats what tint is for but its easier to stare when you can see the other person is not seeing you staring *gasps for breath*), he rolls his window up and down about three times enough for me to look. Walalalallalala. Excooose me…usually you think umm, yeah, that's a fuglee in there.
  Oh noooo. Stereotyping!! This one was so it!!! Ngutnes me.
  

  I was shaking, shaking like a Polaroid piiiicture (whatshisnameOutkast?).
  Now you wish the traffic was moving. So, he mouths a ‘hi’. I mouth one back. Ala, what a better way to pass time. He was clean shaven and gorgeous.
  *Sniff* , morning torture haki, forget broken coffee machine!
  Halafu I could only see his shirt and tie. Feh! Me I hope he was not huko in boxers with love hearts and some funny looking shoes because *grits teeth*.
  Ok, so then, I start blushing. Imagine! Me a married woman having groins warm up for another man. LOL. Such sin! *grabs rosary, Hail Mary…..* I blushed like a foooooooool. I am so embarrassed.
  Usually I blush a lot so I avoid it as far as possible. I can draw maps like no one’s biz so I totally hate to be tortured thus. I muster courage to look up again halafu he mouths a ‘how are you’. Well at fisrt I did not hear/read it so I said what and put my hand to my hear a la sign language and he smiled…*swooooons and kufas* then said it again. Jayzuz me!! I am officially fit to reside in K-street sasa now why? Soliciting in Traffic.

  Traffic moves a little, then stops you know the drill.

  He keeps mouthing stuff and when I get it (my brain kinda slowed down so he had to keep repeating it, most of it chit chat ‘what is your name’) I would mouth back. It was so much fun! Then, we exchanged numbers....noooot.
  Well, he gave me his. Do you know how? ....Wait for it ….he wrote it on the newspaper and had one of those chaps selling papers to pass it to me!!!! Ngutness. Is he not so cool?! Thats a romantic one. I can tell.
  I got a free paper and his phone number. *swoonety swoon* I mean, who ever thinks of that now? I was craning to see if he has a wedding ring. LOL seriously how messed up is that?! Why do I even care seeing as I'm not interested? Or am I not? *bites little finger a la Dr. evil/Austin powers*

  So it got to the point where I realised aiii, this one will break my home. Too bad I have a *swallows hard, bites lower lip, whispers in barely audible voice* 'dude' and could not bring myself to hook him up with my number. *sniff* there goes my husband.
  When the traffic moved, he blew me a kiss and did a ‘call me’. Auuuuuiii. Me I just might call him. I mean, what the heck…..I’m sure I will outgrow it by day’s end but hmmm, that was such fun.
  *giggles* I am sooo sixteen right now. Time has never been better spent in traffic. That traffic was not even enough!!! I love traffic so much. Traffic kicks ass. Yaay for traffic.
  

  *disclaimer*
  Incase that person happened to read this blog, ngai Njesus! maybe its a blogger.....
  *shivers, composes self, reads out loud*
  'I am a fun loving,outgoing, funny, God fearing, ambitious, financially stable and looking for a long term relationship and ready to step into the future with a special someone whom we can inspire and encourage each other into the future *gasps for breath*. No jokers please. No flashing. Test a must. Must not have children. Maybe 1.
  LMAOOOOOO. Yeah, thats how fleeting my loalties are. Kenyan Politician or Peter and Jesus. Either or.
  
  

  Moving on, this morning a certain blogger (yes, you, *points* lift your hand. Inua mkono usalimie watu) calls me and shockedly goes 'what is that you are listening to?!!' . LOL, I was listening to' shangilia'.
  The music I listen to when I get up paces my day. I will not, I refuse to get up to angry music fisrt thing in the morning. At some point later, yeah but fisrt thing, It makes me cranky….so most days I will first listen to Christian music. Slow, uplifting, gives me a balance, a certain mood before I move on to anything else. Kwanja there is this song by the late Emachichi. *giggles, let it go will ya?*, yes, the artist formerly known as Prince Emachichi ‘mwambie Yesu’ LOL. That one is my Nirvana. It’s about asking Jesus for what you want and getting it. And one ‘Karibu na wewe’ , dunno who by, and Hillsongs ‘Still’
  'I will be still know you are God' That song does magic for me......I can stop mid-screaming 'pants'!! at someone and just be still.

  If I am around the dude, he is an atheist *shrugs* (this is why I should hook up with the bro from traffic, I’m sure he is spiritual and God fearing) vile I am so not going to be there when thunderbolts strike him for calling the pope …wait for it…. ‘a mass murderer’ !!!!! For refusing to endorse the condom.

  I share the sentiments. I feel extremely strongly about it. No one is against abstinence, but to not give the HIV positive and the sexually active the option of using a condom is absolute crap. Crap crap crap crap bollocks. Kwani how do you think the virus spreads? NOT FROM THOSE WHO DO NOT HAVE THE VIRUS! Sheesh!

  Well calling the pope that is a bit….. devilish you know? I am still praying for him. Even when he says ‘don’t pray for me. If things get better I might be forced to believe and that is too high a price to pay” I am praying ok. I will definitely leave him better than I found him.

  Well, around him, we cannot agree on anything except music CDs or BBC radio.
  CDs can also become a problem....I want Kelis, he wants Tupac, I want India Arie, he wants Tupac, I want Nora Jones he wants Tupac, I want Bone thugs he wants bone thugs! I want Blink, he wants Blink Ugh!...... Voila!
  LOL, yes, 93.7 BBC is where the consensus is. Alan is free. Ok Fiiine!!!! aiiiiiii!!!!!

  Or to Capital……the Music, *bliss* I am a capital groupie. Sad, I know, but I am. If they just kept quiet and played the music...aiiii, utopia.
  At least they won’t ruin Glamorous- Fergie !! ‘My daddy told me so….he let his daughter know… and ….aaaand Beyonce *hangs head in shame* Upgrade for me. 'I can do for you what Martin did for the peeeeople.* lowers voice a notch* Look at the time I saved ya, mama let me upgrade ya….
  And I am so into that new song by Nikki ‘niwe wako’ is it? The one that goes ‘ayayyaaiiiii’ Love it times 50.
  That’s hot(mwehehe)
  And there is this ‘Baa baa black sheep’ that Fareed plays in ‘Indian’ that is so funny. That’s hot(tihii).
  
  After that I will listen to my own music, or whatever tickles my fancy. Heck sometimes I even listen to French radio. Tihiii, you will find that at around 89.9. *smh* for practice. Lately I can actually make sense of the sentences. Ugh!

  End of. My radio doesn't shika anything else.

  So, happy day good people.
  
  

• July 02, 2007
• 19:14

  Loc'd hair woes.

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Ughh! I have been rocking wigs since I loc'd my hair. Wigs rock. LOL, one day I am Tyra Banks, the next I'm Halle Berry's short crop.
  Before my locs I was braiding my hair, having all kinds of things done to it, cornrows, braids ... then I was Anna Tibaijuka, rocking an afro, only a cuter more girlie one . I like 'fros. My hair curls at the top so it looks kinda nice.... *sighs**
  
  Unlike most fancy girls, my 'fancy hair' chip is broken. I have had my natural hair for about 5 years. loc'd, not loc'd but always natural. I watch with wonderment as the girls do all this fancy things to their hairs; flat irons, tongs, weaves and I kinda miss that but I discovered I could play around with loc'd hair. Make waves and springy curls on it and stuff...bla bla.
  
  So anyway, when I took out my old locs because erm, I went to this quack who put some crazy shiet in my hair and it had these white thingamajigs that would not come out...I decided to cut them all off and start all over. Then my loctician said to try a detangler and see if it will take them out, and yaaaay, it did...slowly and painfully for about 2 weeks, loc by loc.
  
  Still, I lost a lot of hair and my loctician said to nurse it while before I loc again so it can gain some body/booty. So, there I was giving it a break, intensively treating it and for a while before I loc'd I had erm, the variety of wigs. Tihii, nooo, its not my hair. Underneath it was these dholuo woman in Bondo cornrows. Hehehe!
  
  So, I go loc, halafu, this is what comes out!!!
  
  
  
  
  Saaasaa now what are these?
  Funny, the first time I loc'd my hair, it was all straight but thats because I had bits of relaxed hair which I trimmed as the locs grew.
  Now, my natural hair has shot to absolute madness. Its too light, too soft and mucus-ey, so its decided to do this absolutely infuriating curling stunt. So my head is a mop of fekking curls, and I have to keep running my hands through so that it does not tangle.
  The loctician said eti after a while it will straighten out. It would be cool if it was long curls, but these are too damn short. I look like 3T dudes. Ewwww, Jerry curl. Its not greasy thankfully.
  Halafu the mess can't seem to arrange itself properly on my head its just all over!!!
  
  Its weeks already and nothing is giving!!! I have had the ends trimmed hoping it will straighten up angalau kidogo but it has totally refused to behave.
  
  Then on the days I am bold enough to leave it open, people will ask what have you done to your hair?' and I say locs and they look at me like "yeah, and I'm the queen of Sheba"and they think I'm lying so that they don't get the look for themselves. Hehhee, Its like when you have a nice dress on and people keep asking and you go "I cant remember the name of the shop" Mwehehhehe. I have resigned to 'Its just evil hair with a mind of its own'.
  
  I'll keep them a while. I hope they are much organised by my next salon visit. Forgive me if I call my loctician at 10 oclock in the night and go "Duuude, they are still not getting any straighter". Yes, yes, I know he is having dinner with his family but aiiiiiii, this is crisis. He said its because my hair has been natural for too long and they are very thin...but ugh, whatever!
  So erm, in the mean, I am *sighs* still rocking the wigs on bad days vile, you cannot sit and talk to people on a serious note with these things on your head. They have a choice to grow longer and keep the curls, or just straighten up because I feel like I will walk into the salon and comb them out or have it all cut off.
  
  Does not hurt until my wig starts to sting and I wanna scratch at the edge, woii lawd! reminds me of the time I caught a jigger and my grandma removed it and tihiii, me I put it back vile it feels soooooo tamuuuuu, niiiiiiiceeeeee to scratch at it at night. Jayzuz! The itch you cant ignore.
  
  Plus now a wig when you are out dancing you have to make sure its in place, mbele the front is at the back and you look like I dunno, Aerosmith or Ozzie... or when you are getting shagged, it could come out so its like, "I like your hair". Its a wig". "I know" then suddely the chap is kamataring you and mid-clothes removal the wig comes off, jesus me!!!! He stops to laugh at your 4 cornrows. 20 dollars says he wishes he never met you.
• June 12, 2007
• 16:17

  UGHHHHHHHHH. LEAVE ME A_FEKKIN_LONE

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Okay.
  Focus.
  Wht the hell is it with men and totally not getting the concept of PMS?
  Let me effin educate you...
  Get this. "sufficient severity to interfere with some aspects of life".
  Why the hell do you wanna fuck with that now.
  
  OVERVIEW:
  Premenstrual Syndrome: PMS is a disorder characterized by a set of hormonal changes that trigger disruptive symptoms in a significant number of women ......
  Over 150 symptoms have been attributed to PMS. After complaints of feeling "out-of-control", anxious, depressed and having uncontrollable crying spells, the most common complaints are headache and fatigue. .....They may include physical symptoms as headache, migraine, fluid retention, fatigue, constipation, painful joints, backache, abdominal cramping, heart palpitations and weight gain. Emotional and behavioral changes may include anxiety, depression, irritability, panic attacks, tension,lack of co-ordination, decreased work or social performance and altered libido......
  
  Now, you know that. Why the fuck do you even bother. Look, all I know is a few days a month, aliens take over my being and really, there is nothing i can do about it.
  I do not need counselling or medication, or jokes. Leave me THE FUCK alone. Don't talk to me, don't give me extra work, don't smile at me, don't offer to get me anything. Don't call me to impromptu unscheduled meetings. I will not show up. Don't breath near me or make guttural sounds or munching sounds leaning over my desk going over something...I will send it to your email ok. Fuck off!!! Dont effin exist. I also do not want to join you for lunch sijuio rubbish rubbish!!! UGHHHHHH. I will eat chocolate and re-arrange my jewellery...just leave me alone.
  
  Most people behave around me at this time. Like they will leave me, the fuck alone. Gauge my mood and go uh oh, I'll see you later mami. That totally works for me. Don't text me, don't call me. Just leave me be. Pleasssseeee God. Give me chocolate and a nice voucher to the spa or something and go away.
  I CANNOT STAND THE SOUND OF ANYONE BREATHING OR TALKING TO ME. They breath so loud dear God!!!
  
  Then in these insanity induced moments when guys figure oh yeah, what? I know where her clitoris is... PMS? I can break that. Don't try that at home. People have died. True story.
  
  Let me warn you again. All men and women that will ever ever cross my path ever.
  
  Look, I know you leave me alone usually, I know you enjoy it because its an excuse for you to hang with the boys, oogle at chics and go "si you were PMSing".....but let me just remind you for the days you think you can beat the aliens. Just for that day when you think maybe you can handle it. YOU CANNOT.
  I love you, and I don't want to be enemies with you, so never ever think for one day that you can fight that battle for me. Do like you do. Go away. Work, call to check on me (It would be great if you did not effin call, but sheesh whatever dude!) , send some chocolate and the voucher, you know..is all me! and for a little bit, enjoy your freedom. Enjoy! Free like a bird.
  Its a KM thing. I let you go to your best pal's stag night, I said nothing. Now is letting me PMS too much to ask? Did you just wake up on the wrong side this month and decide I am not to be accorded peace?
  
  You know I piss you off. You know I know I piss you off. You know I know I can feel myself annoying you and there is nothing I can do about it...You know you get so mad you storm out in protest. Why the fuck do you think next month it will be different? I just dont get it!
  
  So I repeat,
  
  - Do not, unless you have deathwish offer to take me to dinner to cheer me up . I do not need cheering up. SPACE is what!!! I do not know what is happening to my body but it will go away soon. Please wait.
  
  - If I say no to going out, do not go 'uh uh...awwww shoot, PMS. Now I have to take you out". GO PLAY HIDE AND GO FUCK YOURSELF. I am not hungry!!! Chocolate is nice though.
  
  - If you coerce me into going out, do not get me out of the house with "last call for witches to leave the house". its not fekking funny.
  
  - When we sit for dinner, do not look stupefied and go "really, what happens during PMS". I have NO FUCKING CLUE either.
  
  - When the waiter comes, please I know your instinct is to find that girl who is always happy, laughing at your jokes, smiling, hanging on your arm like a cheap trophy and kissing you all the time, but as I said the aliens have taken her over, so, please do not say smart alec stuff to the waiter like "i'll have a beer " then point at me and go "she would like a broom to fly around as we wait". That is not even remotely funny right now!! The waiter does not even get it. You are the only one laughing.
  
  Can I for just a short while. Please be left alone. Ughhhh.
• May 29, 2007
• 7:40

  This name thing!!

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  Names  

  Ok, for the longest time I am waiting for feedback from some chap, so annoying, his phone is off!!! Ughhh!!! and he is like nowhere to be found so *rolls eyes* wacha I blog.

  Am I the only one who has a problem with names?
  I need to change my names!!! I’m getting to that place where I should pick the names I will stick with for a while. Officially.
  I have two English names, one of which I would be inebriated beyond all logic and reason to tell, two native names and my surname! 5 names!! What the heck for?

  I was born to a Maasai Meru father and Kikuyu Ugandan mother. That whole “I would never marry or date from a certain tribe” thing, I cannot relate to. I have no role models to convince me else.

  Rather messed up I know…The story is my Maasai grandfather migrated to a settlement scheme in Meru and married my Meru grandmum.
  My maternal grandmother is Ugandan and she married my kikuyu grandfather. I have no clue if she was lost in Muranga and looking for directions and my guuka kidnapped her or what the hell happened there.
  Tell you what though. You have not seen drama until you see the Ugandan introduction ceremony (okwanjura). I attended one....whuuuuuot! *whistles* Utapiga magoti mami!!

  Anywhoo, my parents met when my mother had gone to visit her friend from college and was buying vegetables, then my mummy sneered at my dad after he winked at her (daddy!! Bad manners!) (that’s what my mum said and my dad said she was looking at him wanting to be winked at!! Jayzuz me! Ewwww!) So he started following her asking “sasa now why are you feeling sweet?” then they got married and part of dowry was to put my mum through school! Snookered!!! Tihiii. How come chaps nowadays don’t put their mamasita’s through school or am I with the wrong ones?
  *mental note, see about school fees, that would make my life so much easier*.
  I can just see it…”honey, where is my school fees?”

  My gramps totally refused to be assimilated and when everyone moved on, he was still all about grabbing land and owning too many cows. He had serious social issues. Ala! I grew up bathing in milk and herding cows. No shame in it. I herded them like a pro! KM huko on the grass with a book and a stick, bliss!! IU can even make the whistling sounds and stuff...

  I came last in my family and there was no other girl to name on my father’s side so both my grandparents gave me a name because none of them wanted to be obliterated. Ideally, my Grandma should have given me a name since I’m born after her, but si I just told you about my stubborn grandfather? So my grandmother named me in Meru to mean “clean, or someone that likes to shower” and like a year later my grandfather spat on me and named me in Maa to mean “blessed one” *rolls eyes* Indeed gramps, they are taking a while to come them blessings but yeah, sure, whatever you say.

  Quite odd since names are given to match your personality, a 1 year old girl with a personality…can you spell wild guess!…so I dunno how they decided I am blessed or I like showers but I like to think they saw something that I’m yet to see myself. The blessings I can understand…maybe there is a windfall waiting in the wings, but showering? I don’t think I like bathing in a way that can be construed as ‘loving it’. Luxurious baths yes, but no more than the next person.
  I ended up 2 WTF!! Kind of names. Plus 2 english ones. And my surname.

  I could never tell if I was cut out to eat Miraa, to get angry, to love cows, to love beads (and have to wear them to school and have kids calling you “mchawi!!!” as in “witchdoctor” during PE and stay far away from you. LMAO, hell yes, I’m immune to “Kwao ni wachawi”. Those guys were just shady lil’ fockers!), to be slow, to love money or to take care of my man like my maternal grandma says we should. Everything was in conflict. All I asked for was justice!!

  Most people don’t even think my relatives and I belong to the same family because our names and features are all over! Extremely tall ones, short ones, dark ones, light ones, fabulous hair, shit hair, big butts, small butts, good skin, shit skin, good legs, big eyes….all mixed up. The only clue is the surnames or distinct lips and noses.

  Kids should be allowed to change their names as soon as they go to school and fellow kids start bullying them. Some names just attract bullies!! It’s like “uhhhh I’m the one with the shitty name, come bully me”. People whose names are straight up ‘don’t mess with this’ like Lucy Muthoni Kibaki never ever get bullied. They are the bullies!!!

  When I went to boarding school, the teacher ticking the register looked at me and asked, where do you come from? Kenya dammit!
  And that was the beginning of my nightmare. People bullying me and contorting my names to tickle themselves, something my friend and the moron I date do till now and I have learnt to filter it out like when you have something important to tell me let me know. So I lost them and kept to first name and surname.

  Then I decided to go ethnic and things, lost my English names and I realise people cannot even pronounce any of my names. They just make fun. Like I go to the doctor ( real doctor, not witchdoctor) and the assistant calls me in and twangs my name or falters around it or just simply plays around with it hoping someone will look up and go ‘oh yeah, that’s me’ The times I have had to say “Its (pronounce names here)” or spell my names to people on the phone!!

  I wish I was just pure Kikuyu. Such fun! Kyuks have all the fun. I wish I had their names, sniff. Shiro, Ciiku, Wangui, Nduta, Wambui. Some of my cousins have such names. So cute! You can make them into nice short names like Kari for Wangari. None of those names that people call you then they snigger.
  
  Ugandan names are soooo not my thing. That story of saying "Chissa" for Kissa is soo whatever.
  Meru girl names are like ish, Nkirote, Kendi, Kathambi, Kawira, Gakii.
  Most Maasai girl names in my family are like eti what?. Siimoi, Nasieku (tihi, short for that is 'koko', Nas, Nostrodamus) Namunyak (wtf! Is that now? when people shorten it to ‘Namu’ it sounds like an animal of sorts. Or like when people go Namuyak, totally ignoring the ‘N’ it sounds like someone that ‘yaks’. yak yak yak.

  Halafu is it just me or in one family do you have like 7 people going by the same name? So you go to family functions and its like “ask Kathambi”. “Kathambi which one?” “Kathambi small”. “who did you come with?” “Namu” “Namu which?” “Namu (name of husband)”. Such a bother.
  
  I’m yet to get how someone can call another person from one end of the house and go “Nkirote ebu come kidogo” (that one is contorted to ‘Nki’ or ‘Nkiro’ then “Nikki’ vile my cousin had this chap who could not say it and he would go ‘Nikirote’ . Ngutness! You know how folks have a hard time saying things like ‘Ngong” they go “Nnngong”. Mwehehe so it became Nikki)….then 3 Nikirotes go “which one?” and then the person on the other end goes “dreadlocks”. Whuuooooot!?

  How is one defined by who their husband is, who their child is, where they work, their height, their skin color, hairstyle…I thought that was what a name does!!! Give you an identity!!!

  Then my cousin went and named her daughter “Mapenzi”. LOOOOOL, you know that ish of naming kids “Baraka’, “Amani”, “Zawadi” now who will she blame when my irritating cousin won’t stop calling her kid ‘malovings’. That one makes me laugh. And the girl knows. She looks up when you say “malovings” so obviously, a dented esteem awaits her in the not too distant future.
  
  

  Ugh! Then my sister is married to a Luo, and the other day we were laughing and telling her that she should have a kid and name it “Hummer Otieno” then my sister got fuelled up and said or….(and this is not funny I know but it was hilarious then) “Boeing 507 Douala-JKIA Adhiambo”. I was D.E.A.D. She’s funneeee!!!! Maaaan my sister’s hubby gets stupefied! What wife is this he married! Are you allowed to make fun like that? I don’t care as long as I’m getting my laughs.
  
  Speaking of, I was telling him vile someone snookered me into subscribing into that shiet Raila SMS thing. You know yourself, you and your “Call this number for an exciting offer”. I was sceptical but you know, I mean, it’s an offer right? The next minute it was like “thank you for joining the Raila supporter network”. WTF! No chance to chose to join or not, hapana, you call the number and you have joined. Is it me or isn’t that FRAUD!!!
  I keep getting these texts daily like “Hi. This is Raila. I am the bridge that will take you out of misery into a bright tomorrow, thank you for your support”. LMAO. And he just hates and plants these evil ideas you know? Like no chit chat, let’s get straight to the hating.. “Hi. This is Raila. The government should not use salary increment for teachers as a campaign tool. They teachers deserve it. Thank you for your support” ,
  “Hi this is Raila. I am in South Africa(kss kss, do we say). I was shocked to hear that a top cabinet minister accepted 203 million for the Anglo-leasing scandal. Thank you for your support” (well, not verbatim, the thanks for support is always standard, but as you can see the evil seed has been sown and he leaves you to maul it over until he strikes again tomorrow).

  What guts me, is I do not support him. AT ALL. I think he is good at inciting and mobilising masses and outrageous fanatics (who without batting an eyelid said “Raila invented the hummer” Good Lord!) and as an opposition leader who keeps the government in check. He is terrific at that, but as a visionary leader with a proper development agenda….pfffft, I’m not sold yet. Even with his agenda for which he must have paid a pretty sum in consultancy…he never really strikes me as a development conscious person. He never has.

  The only way for him to be president is if Kenyans embrace cheap replacement politics and pay a price. Make him president and get him out of your hair. Cos he ain’t going nowhere. 2012 he will still be at it if he is not lucky this time around. After 5 years, I can assure you everyone else will feel marginalised enough to want him out, and he and his cronies will be out, as will Kibaki and his cronies and we can finally get rid of all the trash and on the road to progress with proper leaders who are more futurist, less corrupt, less power hungry….like kina me.
  I’m not voting for him that’s for sure, he best not waste his credit on me. He should text those who have not made up their minds yet. This one here is made up.
  So, I told my brother in law that (who never gets the texts by the way. It’s like I’m the only one who gets those texts. No one else I know does!!!) and he said that he will text Raila and tell him “Hi Raila. You are sending texts to the wrong people”. LOOOL. Speaking of which, I need to unsubscribe from that shiet. Does anyone know how to? I have tried calling or sending texts like “fuck you”. *rolls eyes* Never works!!!

  Yeah well, this name thing...Its bothering me
  
  

• May 28, 2007
• 18:07

  A weekend of sorts

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  Mush  

  It was a weekend of sorts. Slow, productive, I relaxed and came out of it feeling renewed in a lot of ways and I’m making time to do all the things that need to be done.

  I finished my school work yaay. Heck I even met my ex for coffee. Yes! My ex. He was in town! Wow! Far far cry from days gone. Auiiii! I was a total mess then *woiyees and hugs self*. Randy as hell too so I was strategising how to seduce some chap. Ngutness me!

  *Sticks tongue out* I get it now anytime I want, anywhere I want, anyhow I want and that Bilas Train I shall never board. Smh, famous last words?…..hata kama if I’m dumped tomorrow, that train I will not board! I’d rather shelf my pride and solicit for a booty call than get into that horrible, mean old train with KBWers knitting sweaters! *spits at train* Chug along you shitty train.

  I remember days when I would check boarding passes nini nini. Resident status! No taxes for KM. A full year! *moons train*

  It was a bit odd. Seeing him from here. This new place. I had no clue how to see someone that your heart beat for in such a huge way after such a while. I dressed up, then changed my mind, I avoided all the things he loved to see me wearing,…then I realised aii, unless I go naked. Sorry but I gat booty for days, LOL, it’s the genes. It’s all in the mix

  So I wore jeans and sandals. As formality he said I look good, *looks at self* I don’t doubt…
  Okkkaaayyy! That was a little narcissistic. Sarry, I’m sarry. *ends vomitus stupidus, assumes lotus*
  

  Bodies are shells. What matters is the inside.

  I so wish I was a chap sometimes. Guzzle beer, ogle at chics, burp, fart, snore in harmony, sing rugby songs in the shower, the boys, the football, have my dick sucked. Such fun!

  It was a little like the old times, a little unlike the old times. He smells the same, he still interlocks his fingers together, looks as good. I came a little late and he went “there you are!” and hugged me cautiously, gave me a book ‘The way of all flesh’ Samuel Butler.
  Yes, I checked if he had written anything sweet inside *rolls eyes* nuthin! Just KM, from (his name) 2007. Boooooooring. I suppose anything else would be rude, but in no time we were chatting away. After all this time, we salvaged friendship and mutual respect.

  By the time I left, I was thinking back. The journey I have taken to here. How natural it is to go back home to someone else. He was working, he looked up and went “I hope you did not say yes.” and I giggled and said “Yeah, sorry, I’m here to pick my stuff” and we moved straight along. Unbelievable!
  A few people close to me know about that phase of my life. For the longest time I chose to make it inconsequential, that thing that happens to all of us, I talked as little and as lightly about it as was possible but for the few who know what everyday was for me then, they will tell you a different story of one of the saddest girl they knew then. I look back at that time now and laugh.
  
  Sometimes now, I wonder how different things might have been if I had taken the path he chose for me.
  I loved him. I still do, but in a different way. The way that says, I appreciate your page in my life story.
  I remember loving him, him loving me. Then one day it all fell apart. I know that day, that date. What I wore, what everything was like. Sometimes you fight with people and know it’s not for long, you will make up.
  On the day it dawned on me that it was really over, there would never be compromise, it was really truly the end of an era, I lay in his bed as he packed all his stuff and cried and he said “come with me”.
  I was so young, finding my way but the tears I cried, asking for more time, more understanding, I love you, I want to be with you and I will be ready for this but not just now…those have to be the most painful tears I have cried all my life. Pain. The kind where you never understand how someone can love you enough to want to spend their life with you, yet never see things from where you stand.

  I cried for months. Everyday I would wake up, kill myself with work just so my mind would not have a free minute to think then I would crawl into bed doused in his scent so I could smell him you know? And cry myself to sleep. My mummy worried, counseled and allowed me to lie on her lap and cry until sleep came.
  My friends priceless! Anna held my hand, wiped away my tears and got me fucking drunk. We would leave Carnivore at 6.30 in the morning on a random Thursday and I would get home, shower and go to work. Good times!!!

  We would be sitting, having a normal conversation about the weather and tears would fall from my face sometimes even without my knowledge and she would reach out, wipe them off and say “stop embarrassing me ka-babes” She made fun of it. Of me. I laughed every once in a while with her…and I love her.

  My sister’s bed became my solace. I would crawl into her bed and cry so bad she would cry for me, paint my nails, and nothing at that time could make it better. Nothing I could think of. And I started making little excuses for him… “I love him. What am I waiting for?” Until one day, it dawned on me that I was not asking for too much. He was being selfish. It was only right for him. And the one time it mattered the most that he meets me halfway, he wouldn’t. He has a new girlfriend now and I hope he finds his happiness. Shtoopid! *moons ex*

  That relationship changed me. In a million good ways, and some bad ways. Not a single regret. The one thing that time has done little to change is the fact that I still feel that I may never be ready to make that move. Not because something is wrong with me, or with the other person but I have no clue what it will take me to be ready.

  For a while I was messed up. I have since apologized to the people I hurt and forgiven those who hurt me in that period of self-discovery and eventual bounce back. The one thing I cannot stand is to be in bad terms with people. As far as possible without surrender, I will offer forgiveness and ask for some in return. All the time. I have damn good friends and bloody good enemies as a result. I’m never hazy about that. You are a friend or a foe. There is no one in my life I cannot classify. My few enemies know they are my enemies and my few friends know they are my friends. No grey areas.

  It’s been so long now. Sometimes he will call on a random day to say hallo and I think of the things I’m doing now, what my life has become. Would I have ever found myself like I have? Done what I have? Grown like I have? Met the people I have? Loved those I have? Be who I have become…the good, the bad and the ugly?

  
  There were days back there when I was sure, 100%, get that, a hundred percent, that I would never stop hurting, never take one step further.

  Then someone entwines their fingers in mine, smiles at me, a little, private smile that speaks volumes…that I would bleed to see my every waking moment, gawd its so fuckin sexy!
  I could be all the way on the other side and he is busy talking to someone and very very briefly when his eyes find mine, Bam! The smile. Very slight. I could so eat him alive or just tear his clothes off and maul him. *snaps out of it, looks around, sighs, gives the eff up* I know, I know, do you think I enjoy this? Do you? I disgust myself too and I know lust is one of the 7-you-so-going-to-hell-straight-up-don’t-bother-asking-Peter-if-yo-name-is-in-the-book-of-life-cos
  -KM-it-aint-Hitler-will-show-you-to-your-furnace-sins. *mental note, washana lust*.
  
  In my defence, I went to church on Sunday. Sermon; Exodus 4. Moses’ calling. The preacher was Colin Bruce, yes, the World Bank Kenya Director, I swear! There was an infiltration of role models upinthere. PHD at 23..are you kidding me! And the message was your destiny is in your hands. It’s not what you have but what you do with it. Let God hold your hand. And Tabitha Seii was there too and she told women to get up and follow their calling and she is running for the Keiyo South seat and retiring as ambassador next month because how now does Biwott sit on the seat forever? Nuff sed. Top that! Top that. Throw a rock if you trying to judge me!

  My point?......there is nothing, nothing under God’s green earth that time cannot take care of.

  From where I stand, I have gained the strength and courage to accept that even when good things end, somewhere around the corner, when the darkness is over, a beautiful sunrise awaits. That for me took a while. Time, mistakes and I had to learn a very difficult lesson that that process must NEVER be rushed.

  I learned that at the end of the day, love sucks. But when you are lost in it, learning, growing…you have to be aware that any time you will break a heart or get yours broken but somebody has left an indelible mark on your heart.
  It’s easier for me to deal with it from that viewpoint.

  Easier to live in the moment.
  Easier to know that while it lasts, someone somewhere is rooting for you, thinking of you.

  For me, that balances things out….. My mistakes and failures with some and my successes with others.
  It keeps you conscious. That break-ups happen, people come into your life and leave in a vicious cycle sort of way.

  Somehow that is not pleasant knowledge. Wouldn’t we rather hold them to us? Not have to go through the motions again?
  

  But gracefully accepting that knowledge and all the details that come with it puts you in the next best place. And however fleeting that insane moment of happiness is, that minute when your heart beats for someone else in a way that lights you up…..there are many of those moments. Some that matter, some that don’t. Some that last, some that don’t. That moment may end when it will, but it’s always worth the while. To learn that that should never be a source of regret or bitterness, but of learning and becoming better takes the strength to be greater than yourself.

  With that knowledge, one day you wake up and realise you have come full circle.
  You are a complete, happy person who is neither afraid of being alone, nor of being accompanied by a trusted lover and friend.
  

  And that is one of the most beautiful places to be. It infiltrates into all areas of your life…social, professional, financial, personal…. Where nothing scares you. Where you know you can always find time and resources within yourself to deal with everything life throws at you. Where nothing is insurmountable. It does not necessarily take a matter of the heart to find that place. It takes mastery and conquering of self.

• May 24, 2007
• 16:48

  Random depression

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  Water  

  I’m tired, exhausted.
  I hate my life. No, i don't.....I'm just not too crazy about it now.
  

  I have this pit in my stomach.
  The one I get right before I suffer a mental burnout.
  Right before I slump.
  The one I get right after I commit myself to work that I will take no less than a month to get off my ass and do…..the time, the logistics, the where to begin, the when will it end? The first step is always loaded with such responsibility. You start it, you finish it. Its best if you never start it no?

  I’m also depressed. I was up watching this Indian Movie called Water. LOL, I like Indian movies me.
  The dancing, the teasing, the way they never kiss or fuck, oh, so glorious.
  Did I ever tell you how, I was once told eti Indians, when they shag, they get in there and chill for like 30 minutes without moving then they orgasm, and I used to LMAO, and scoff at Indians, I still do, what with the BBC stats and all.
  Wait first, by the time a condom is too big!!! LOOOL, what are you working with seriously? goodness me. My friend calls them 'ukikohoa inatoka" or eti, LOL,' it looks like its wearing an oversize pair of socks'. *dies*
  Well, back to the 30 minute job…until laaaater, I leant ala! Its tantric sex, very good at bringing all the glory of heaven to earth. It works….with Paaaaatience. Chief, don’t move bana, ala! 29 more minutes!!! We are connecting here!!! Mwehehhe, one time then we do the connecting thing.

  Well, about ‘Water” Someone recommended it, its brilliant, but I slept midway. That is always the first sign that I’m exhausted. Falling asleep before 10. I was trying to keep my eyes open and going “yes, I’m very awake” . I will watch it again.

  I got out of bed today by the grace of God. I could have slept forever. He was moving about, and I slept on. ‘Are you not working today missy?’ about 5 times before he gave up. I repeat, I coulda stayed in all day but when I got up, everything was silent, I showered, had breakfast and read a book on art. Did you know that although Africa is rich in Art, African slaves were not able to salvage their art and culture? Those that could identify with each other tried to keep together but the white folks made conscious effort to keep them apart, strength in numbers and all. It was of course difficult to integrate the black slaves, the white ones just sort of blended in. Anywhoo, long story short, the front porch is an African American expression of art that was salvaged from African Art. Don’t ask, that’s as far as I got. But something to do with Coasto, chilling on the porch when it’s too hot.

  So, I’m depressed and stuff. Is this what I should be all up and about with my life really? I’m tired. I have emails to reply; work to do, school work that is overdue by 2 weeks!!!!! And I have not touched it. In fact to be honest with you, I skipped class early this month for a week and I have to be rescheduled because, well, I was busy and plus I had not touched my assignments so I did not need someone hassling me kila saa "oh, KM, oh KM" fakini, leave me alone. Plus ah, me I was not feeling class sana that week.
  Smh, like when I refused to do homework and I would sign my own diary and the teacher would bust me and write in block red Kilometric “Mama KM, KM did not do her assignment. Is there a reason why?” And my mum would ask me and I would say mid going to find a nice long slipper ‘I know the answers in my head”.

  I would like a holiday. I would love to not think for a while. Not Rhino charge dammit! If one more person mentions Rhino Charge I will projectile diarrhea on them. A beach. Water bodies. Would anyone like to give me a voucher to a spa or something? Anything? I’ll take anything.

  I am depressed, exhausted, broke, effin broke, I cannot even afford a plate of food, hell I'm starving, but in a strange way, I like this feeling because getting out of it means great wonderful things are coming my way.

• May 21, 2007
• 17:10

  24...*rolls eyes* I lost the plot a long while ago

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Ughhhhhh! that 24 sucks ass. Yes, I know. *ducks rocks from experts*, I am not an avid follower nini, no clue wth its about, and I am the one person who is totally unqualified to analyse that, but I watch it sometimes and irritate the living daylights out of people vile I see hidden meanings. I knew that Chinese story was so not over, and see now? All that "KM if you won't let me watch go eat a rat or something" *sigh* ....I hate to say I told you so, but ermm...
  
  Not the action, nah! girl-boy stuff. I was down for action until Gredenko cut his arm off, and we are back to the Chinese again!!! That effin Cheng is so clueless!! Me i like bad ass Arabs.
  
  Edgar dying was bad enough, I'm yet to get over that....and now, Milo is dead!!!! (Milo Pressman of 24). Aiiiiiii, feh! whuot? I can so swear he did not see it coming being cha mbele like that sacrificing himself for Nadia. One quick one through the head bro, your work here is done!! LOL, men! they be so daft sometimes. Now see...no more love triangle with Nadia, Doyle and Milo. They should have kept himmmm anagalau one episode so Nadia can have a hard time making up her mind...ughhh, he was so tall and like huggable. What? what? I see hidden meaning.
  
  That 24 has lost the plot. Mara sijui Audrey is alive her and her totally fried brain... then Phillip Bauer arghhh, bogusness. Me I am so bila psyke for that thing.
  Jack is always like the hero....is it me or like he is so boring the last two episodes. he should just die, and he should never have to do any emotional scenes like with Audrey....oh! look at me, I'm JackfekkingBauer I can get through to you, I'm the man who loves you. I wurrve you Audrey, your were born in Colofekkingrado. Wuuuusss!! Man up and stop the rubbish!!! Stick to bad ass!!!! Stop messing with perfection.
  Halafu they have started bringing maaany girl boy issues, even the one with Chloe and Morris, LOL, kila saa that Morris is being mean to her, *sniff*. That chap is always taunting her. Bah! Chloe...I hate the way her face looks so ish!!! Her face is always soooo...errm harsh!!
  Mwehehhe, only when that Lisa Miller was shagging the whats his name spy, lol the chap Lennox was with was watching so blatantly! I still have a hard time forgetting what a wierdo Tom was in Ally McBeal, whistling nose and all and clicking stuff in the courtroom..
  
  24 is like so whatever!
• May 18, 2007
• 16:26

  Kwani what is wrong with Galileo?

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  club  

  I read this article with shock, horror and disgust.
  
  I have no clue who is responsible for running any club in Nairobi, but I know my clubs. I love to dance, to listen to good music and have a drink in a place where there are not too many tois staggering about, sweating profusely and all that ish, unless its in the open. Yes, I am a Galileo Buff.....yes, no shame in it, I love that place.... I will say this...bullshit, sour grapes. To see it trahsed like that left me 'wtf!'
  
  First off, to classify Galileo in the same category as Tacos and Zeep is pure rubbish. Obviously someone in Galielo ate someone's goat. Sour grapes have never been sourer!!
  There is such a thing as doing some research. They are nowhere near the same league!!!
  I doubt very much clubs like Galileo had pulsers (posers) in mind when they started off.
  Its not a secret that Big Ted is doing a fabulous job of running the place. Is he the entertainment manager? Not sure but I always thought so.
  Its not even a secret that many many corporate, including media events continue to held there for a reason.
  LOL, eti Attitude? What is it? If you cannot afford the drinks or the entrance fee, is all easy, go where you can. Its your money, its your idea of fun!!!!
  That story of 'can't pay entrance' is all fine if you want to go to Rezorus for a dose of sweat fumes and errant teenagers. Thats what entrance fee saves you from. Some people are just looking to unwind, in a nice place with a nice crowd.
  
  If you find 'crude galoots who man the door and make Pulsers feel most unwelcome'....Pulsers...hehehhee,then you probably need to re-evaluate clubbing as drinking 1 tusker and sneaking in some Kenya Cane. There are only so many ways of saying 'obohos' are not allowed in some places.
  
  There are people for whom Galileo works and in all fairness, there are those for whom it does not. It just depends on what you are looking for.
  
  Over fanciful ambience? LOL, nip into Club Afrique next door, thats where all the Kikuyu Cowboys will be. And yes, CA is also a cool joint. For some.
  Obviously, people have a hard time understanding that clubs cater for very different demographics.
  So while the argument on competition is valid(there are loads of other clubs in the same league that do a fabulous job) these clubs have existed next to each other from the get go but there are people who will walk into Galileo and those who will walk into Afrique.
  
  There is a reason people go to clubs like Galileo, Mercury, Liquid, Bar Code, Mwenda's (which in my opinion are the coolest hang outs) and yes, they are clubs like any other with a life cycle.....
  

  
  

  

  The club business is that dynamic, so no one expects those places to be the coolest places till fade but while it lasts, there are people who are fine with it just as it is.
  Either way, i guess even all publicity is good publicity.
  
  Hehhe, you would think I get paid to prattle on behalf of Galileo. Feh! someone should swing me a free drink on that note.
  
  Happy weekend kila mtu. I know where I'm going this weekend to kamata pints
• 5:56

  Kwani what is wrong with Galileo?

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I read this article with shock, horror and disgust.
  
  I have no clue who is responsible for running any club in Nairobi, but I know my clubs. I love to dance, to listen to good music and have a drink in a place where there are not too many tois staggering about, sweating profusely and all that ish, unless its in the open. Yes, I am a Galileo Buff.....yes, no shame in it, I love that place.... I will say this...bullshit, sour grapes. To see it trahsed like that left me 'wtf!'
  
  First off, to classify Galileo in the same category as Tacos and Zeep is pure rubbish. Obviously someone in Galielo ate someone's goat. Sour grapes have never been sourer!!
  There is such a thing as doing some research. They are nowhere near the same league!!!
  I doubt very much clubs like Galileo had pulsers (posers) in mind when they started off.
  Its not a secret that Big Ted is doing a fabulous job of running the place. Is he the entertainment manager? Not sure but I always thought so.
  Its not even a secret that many many corporate, including media events continue to held there for a reason.
  LOL, eti Attitude? What is it? If you cannot afford the drinks or the entrance fee, is all easy, go where you can. Its your money, its your idea of fun!!!!
  That story of 'can't pay entrance' is all fine if you want to go to Rezorus for a dose of sweat fumes and errant teenagers. Thats what entrance fee saves you from. Some people are just looking to unwind, in a nice place with a nice crowd.
  
  If you find 'crude galoots who man the door and make Pulsers feel most unwelcome'....Pulsers...hehehhee,then you probably need to re-evaluate clubbing as drinking 1 tusker and sneaking in some Kenya Cane. There are only so many ways of saying 'obohos' are not allowed in some places.
  
  There are people for whom Galileo works and in all fairness, there are those for whom it does not. It just depends on what you are looking for.
  
  Over fanciful ambience? LOL, nip into Club Afrique next door, thats where all the Kikuyu Cowboys will be. And yes, CA is also a cool joint. For some.
  Obviously, people have a hard time understanding that clubs cater for very different demographics.
  So while the argument on competition is valid(there are loads of other clubs in the same league that do a fabulous job) these clubs have existed next to each other from the get go but there are people who will walk into Galileo and those who will walk into Afrique.
  
  There is a reason people go to clubs like Galileo, Mercury, Liquid, Bar Code, Mwenda's (which in my opinion are the coolest hang outs) and yes, they are clubs like any other with a life cycle.....
  

  
  

  

  The club business is that dynamic, so no one expects those places to be the coolest places till fade but while it lasts, there are people who are fine with it just as it is.
  Either way, i guess even all publicity is good publicity.
  
  Hehhe, you would think I get paid to prattle on behalf of Galileo. Feh! someone should swing me a free drink on that note.
  
  Happy weekend kila mtu. I know where I'm going this weekend to kamata pints...to one of the most bogus clubs.
• May 17, 2007
• 17:38

  The serious and the not so serious

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  pads  

  
  

  Ala! So I go for a drink with 2 of my friends. Random Tuesday, P&B, the jazz? Off the chains. I crawled into bed at 3. No apologies.
  So now, we are sitting there, minding our own business literally, and this chap walks over. Not too sore on the eyes but everything else was wrong with him. From the dressing to the…what can I call it? Sweating!!! Aiiii I dunno if he was dancing or what but if you sweat on the dance floor….it ain’t pretty. Sit down. Have a drink. It’s a happy world. Assiiii, don’t worry, be happy. And why was he dancing to Jazz? Sweat is not cute. The only way sweat will be cute is post coital. Crazy shag. Touch down, you have been sorted out royally, you cannot feel your legs and you touch your chaps forehead and go “would you like some juice? That’s the only way sweat is cute.

  So anyway, I will not hate on the chap or anything, but erm, he was in sneakers/trainers…same difference man, don’t wear that to the club. Upgrade!!!
  So anyway, point of note, me, I do not shake hands. Unless it’s official and totally unavoidable, I really don’t know what you been up to so forget. No hands. Stretch at your own peril, I ain’t shakin it. And to think it’s salty from the sweat…I think I’mma be sick. Halafu I don’t even know you from my garbage. Chaaap!!! Go play hide and go f*** yourself or something

  So, he comes over. Now, one of my friends A is what one would call “nasty’. She has the most fucking gorgeous smile ever but she don’t smile at stupid. If she does not like you, you will know and get your walk on because that is a dead end. She sizes men up and goes “forget it kamum”. I’m all about…”he has a nice heart” but I have come to the conclusion that she is never wrong about it. 8 straight years, she’s never been wrong.
  My other friend S, she is vocal. She thinks it, she says it. The other day we were talking and she told me “if you want a Nobel, stop making sex videos and taking nude pictures”. LOOOL, now why was I not told this when I turned 18 haki? The she goes “you will win a Nobel today and the next day there will be sex videos of you online”. Muahahha, too late too late, there are about 3 people that hold my Nobel dream in their cameras and camcorders. What can I say? I get around. I get around. 2 of them, I don’t doubt their integrity, 1, I am deathly afraid of. I know he would never do that!! Too late now, all I can do is keep my face the eff away from the camera and practice keeping a straight face when I say “I did not have sexual relations with that man”. Whuot?! That is so unnerving.
  This world is so unsafe. Ain’t it scary? Not knowing when you will find your ass all up on You Tube screaming “Uh yeah, give it to me big boy” ama what do people say? And close ups of your ummm ‘happy’ face. Gawrsh, what would my mum say? Ngutness me! I think I will lie down. You are looking at her going “Mummy! Do something!” and she goes “KM, you are hereby disinherited” then turns to face the wall. Then people will walk up to you and go “KM, I saw your last video, the lighting was a bit off” *faints* This is why if you break up with people who have your derrty in archives…be really nice to them.
  End of digress.

  I’m timid. LOL. The kinda gal people like to walk over and stuff. I just never talk or shake hands.
  So, the bold chap walks over and starts this garbage of how he has been watching us then goes “can I throw you a rao” Wooweee, ghetto fabulous. Not ‘can I buy you ladies a drink’….naaah, just boy talk. He looked around, saw no ladies and decide to throw his newfound boys a ‘rao’. LOL, that rao word is funny. S said ‘no thanks’ like, 'I will walk to Wajir and suck the tits of a malnourished zebu dry before I accept your drink' kinda-no. A gave him this look, I(timid remember), was counting how many people are drinking tusker and getting really worried that someone I know might see him there and think we are tight. LOL, dust off my shoulders, and No I am not a bad person. I am an old woman bana, I can’t have boys around me!!!

  I have been told severally that I have this harsh, unapproachable face…so not true, what can I say, life has been harsh, I soldier on.
  So he taps me, I was facing Mecca, and stretches his hand out like ‘holla @ ur boy’. Auuuuiii, me I dunno where chaps get guts from but this was carrying his and his grandfather’s. I politely declined the handshake, and I remember looking at him with love mid-decline.

  Whuot? He sized me up. Not the ‘can I tap that sometime’ kind of sizing up…naaaah! One with a smirk. Then he went “kwani yako iko na stairs?” LOOOOOL, 10-nil. Power to the people. I tried so hard to keep a straight face but I ended up laughing. WTF! People can be sooo….LOL, stairs.

  So, A looks at him long and hard, and she is like mchokozi the most then goes “yake iko na stairs na Royco” Atta gal!!!

  So they start this verbal thing and the chap goes “who asked you?’ and she is going “ebu jiangalie an umuangalie” Mwhehehe, good times. Then she goes “fogothari”, shakes her head and takes a swig of her beer. Gawwwwd! I love that gal. When I grow up I wanna be her!!!

  LOOOL. Sheila and I were D.E.A.D

  Eventually, the dude’s friend comes over vile it was getting a little dramatic and he is taking the pal away, and the man is going “No! Today they have to be taught a lesson” reminiscent of your mum calling you from outside like “KM, leo utashika adabu” tihiiii.
  Bah! Now the bouncers came, aiii, me I don’t like that drama, we were just having a drink and that poor sweetie was dragged out screaming “bitches! That’s why you don’t have men” LOL, you coulda fooled me, and the friend came back to apologize, 'please forgive him, he was drunk'. What a sweet friend, also in sneakers but what a sweet friend. Kwani yako iko na stairs? Classic! I need to use that on someone as a matter of urgency.

  On other, more serious issues;

  

  You will be surprised to know things like this, and stats like every month, for circa 4 days, over 500,000 Kenyan girls skip school because of they are on their periods :-( . 500, 000!!!

  Most of these girls use leaves, tissue, mattresses and pieces of cloth because they cannot afford anything else. Leaves!!!
  Eventually, most of these girls end up dropping out of school because of ridicule and hygiene issues.
  The "Always keep Girls in School' campaign, an initiative of Procter & Gamble East Africa and Girl Child Network aims at keeping these girls in school. P&G has committed to providing 3 million pads annually to these girls, and the program targets girls at puberty largely drawn from rural schools and informal settlement (slum) schools all over Kenya. The program also offers education (informal) to these girls regarding puberty, hygiene as well as sponsoring some of the girls through school, and in the interests of sustainability, GCN works with the Mimisrty of education, FAWE towards the inclusion of sanitary towels in the free primary education package.

  Corporates, Kenyans like you and I, well intentioned Kenyans, are keeping these girls in school. You too can keep these girls in school out of the goodness of your heart. In the period between 12th and 24th of May, every time you walk into any of the participating supermarkets; Uchumi, Ukwala, Nakumatt, Tusker, Chandarana etc, please find it in your heart to help by purchasing a MINIMUM of 1 pack of ALWAYS sanitary pads (work with the PR peoples, work with it), it goes for only Ksh 65, and for every pack you buy, P&G will match it with another. Over 5000 girls in the past have benefited, but it is not enough to give each girl 3 packs of pads.....what happens next? For now, before sustainable solutions can be arrived at, please find it in your heart to help.

  If you are a man, i the rare event that he still exists, who feels shame on your feet picking it up and throwing it in your trolley and pretending I am not with 'pads', worry not, there are promoters working in the Supermarket that can assist, please feel free to ask them to do so, and God bless all your kind souls and give you so so much more.
  

• May 15, 2007
• 16:06

  7 Tag, I'm it

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I was tagged by insomniac over here
  Smh. What do you not know?
  Ok, here goes…
  
  1.
  I cannot stand mediocrity or laziness. In every sense of the word. Male or female. I cannot stand people who are happy to be average or ordinary or just ‘there’ and no, that is not the same as ‘she never dates broke men’. I have seen rich people whose minds do shiet for me, but I like to look at a man and know that, in 5 years, he will be somewhere because I would hate to have someone dragging me down with them into their little shite pit of normal.
  I like to date people whose mind is bigger than mine by FAR. I hate feeling like I get stupider a little more each day, LOL so I cannot date anyone who is less focused or less ambitious than I am because it would totally kill me, irritate me and I will most likely go ‘wtf do you do with your life?” and I end up really never letting them know much about my life, my plans, my accomplishments because feh! Waste of time, plus you are so not helping my life with that normal of yours.
  I like to be around people who are bigger than themselves and I can see what they want for their lives. I prefer workaholics who are extremely busy and I do not like people who fumble around before they can actually figure out what their life’s purpose is.
  I like documents in Arial 10 or I won’t review them, I like courteous emails. I cannot stand shit grammar. I really really hate it when people do not spell check or when they talk funny or write funny in bad grammar or like ‘wtf, did you go to school like ever? what are you trying to say?’
  I cannot stand people who engage in verbal or physical abuse with others. I find it awfully crass and classless. There are so many things that people do that I find totally out of taste, and I have made several enemies for telling them that. I do not know you from my garbage. Deal
  
  
  2.
  I am extremely focused professionally, and on most days, I am a workaholic who is very good at her field of expertise, and loves children to bits. Not mine, other people's. And I like juggling things. Running my little shit consultancy and my job. It gets overwhelming sometimes, but I still love it. The stress. And I absolutely loving training people on ‘what I train people on’ in my free time.I like it when people listen to me, when I say something that changes the way they see or do things. If I stopped everything else now, I think I would still love to sit and train people and then some or just simply pick up all the children in the street and keep them safe, happy and warmest. I know its so bollocks right now, but I dream of winning a Nobel one day. *hides face*. Yes, I do, go on, scoff at me.
  
  3.
  Most people think and say I’m a b**** or a snob, while in fact I am one of the sweetest people you will find. LOL. Ma. Swear! I'm like the epitome of sweetness as long as we are friends. I really don’t care. I think I know who I am, and the people who matter to me do. There are things I will not do, there are people I will not date, there are clubs you would have to kill me before I walk into and I make no apologies for it, there are clothes I will not wear, there are drinks I will not touch, there is music I will not listen to, there is a way in which I will not speak, there is a level below which I can not stoop even if I tried. My mother brought me up in a certain way and she would be very upset with me if she even suspected me of being anything but that.
  
  4.
  I cannot stand the thought of being poor. Poverty scares me. I am a financial control freak. I like to have everything in check, all my insurances in order, all my investments in order, to be able to eat what I want, to go out when I like… so I had to learn, from my brother to be very financially savvy. I think. I spend my money badly when its shoes or clothes involved, but I have a plan by which I run my finances and financial advisors a.k.a boyfriend and brother who do a great job of letting me know what direction to take. It has taken me a while and a lot of sacrifice to make big decisions like home ownership and make very many financial decisions, of which I am very proud.
  
  5.
  I love gifts. I love to be spoiled. My parents, my siblings, my friends, my boyfriend all spoil me and I love it. Anything, even shells from the Coast, the ones you listen for the sea, I will take. I only have a problem taking extravagant gifts from my boyfriend. I don’t fault him. I suppose that is what you would do for your girlfriend if you had money for it, I wish I could just take it ugh! and save myself the hassle! but it’s such an easy way out and that is absolutely unlike me and he knows and understands that. Then of course the, what if we break up, then what? Do I take them back? Ok fiiine, he pays for all my non-work related trips and the shopping, LOL *snigger*. And yes, he bought my home theatre. There! Go on. Judge me. Psssssst, this one is not bothered about judgement.
  
  6.
  I am extremely hot tempered and suffer from road rage. It takes a while to annoy me because usually I laugh at everything. I am a laugher, from a laughing family, its all I do. Laugh. I stretch myself to limits before I burn bridges, but when my patience runs out, usually I'm done. I shiver, get the shakes and cry of fury when I am angry, and I am completely unable to speak because I am crying and days later I will still be thinking about it and how I should have swung you a fist or something, and then I will start getting worked up again.
  
  7
  I hate when people snore. Auuuiiiiii, stab me in the back. *smh* My boyfriend? King Snorer Master Flexx!!!. Deep, long and hard until he startles himself and starts laughing. Its so annoying. Half the night I'm nudging him to roll over so he can stop. If I get into bed before he does, he will tiptoe around so as not to wake me up, yet still wake me up with his snoring. Its so upsetting that I had to get ear plugs to shut him out, and I love him to bits and everything, but aiiii!!!
• May 07, 2007
• 21:51

  Vanity all vanity

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Tags:  Rant  

  This is a vanity post. If you came here looking for insights……go somewhere else. Not here.

  Me and my Chap! OVER. Finished. Finito.

  So anyway, I came home from a trip…….I have been up and about, losing stuff, travelling, then my sister was ill for a while in hospital and her hubby was away so I moved into hers to be around my nephew whose idea of dinner is cereal, sprite and playstation. Special.
  

  Straight on to the vanity then.

  Anyway, I came back from a trip and the chap picks me up and we went straight to the club where his friend was having a party.
  34 years old….bleuurghhh, fossils all of you. Fekking pensioners, check into an old people’s home.

  
  Anyway, my feet really swell when I travel, so I am always in sandals. (ughhh, pan to the head, why now)? And I was in slacks. Ughness. You will know in a minute why I mention this.

  I hasten to add, that my hair was bogus. Bogus. That’s all you need to know.
  
  So, we get to the club, halafu, midway, this mama shows up. No names, but she is a famous Kenyan, hot like whuot and all that…smh, I only see her in the papers. So, ala! She is hugging my chap and going “ uhhhh, its great to see you, how have you been….you look good bla”. The usual you know.

  A little later the chap introduced me to her like “This is my girlfriend KM’ Tihi. She was nice you know, but in retrospect I remember the look she gave me. Like a “now you which garden did they dig you from and which cat dragged you in here?”

  My god! Physically, the woman be flawless!! Makeup and weave in place, nails, skin, hair…halafu she had time to go dress up so I mean, she beat me to all vanities like heels and nice clothes and bag. Which sucks! I overhauled my wardrobe only a month ago, so I have cool things to wear dammit!

  I shoulda gone home and powdered my stupid nose angalau!!!

  Anyway, around ish Friday, I remembered and asked the chap “Oh, BTW, how do you know (hot mama herein known as heffer)”.
  Soooo,, very nonchalantly, chap goes eti…erm, “we had a thing like 4 years ago”. Whuoooooooot? Auuuuiiii, a certain pain seared through my body and I felt my self combust.

  Whaaaat? A thing? WTF is a thing!?
  Look, I know stuff about my chap that erm, I have had strangers walk to me and tell me. "Oh, that chap in a bad boy!".....then, "that chap is pussy whipped". How special. What can I say, Erm, rest assured I will not be asking you to dry my tears when he breaks my *whimper* fragile little heart. I have dated bad boys all my life. Why stop now? There is the thrill of 'breaking' them and of course, if they screw you over before you do *drat! don't you hate it when that happens!*, then tough luck, kwani what are the girls for?

  So me, aiii, ninyamaze nife….I started prying. “why did you break up?” “who dumped who?” LOL, you have to forgive me, at the mention of ‘thing’, I left my pride at the door.

  So, the chap looks at me like he so knows he just opened a pandoras box.

  Tihii no lies, but in my head, images those fekking red carpet and how beautiful people attract each other to propagate beautiful offspring and ensure continuity…killing me. Chap goes eti…..mwehehe “we were not clicking”. Let me ask...is that what they train you in 'how to effin trick your woman school?'

  I throw him a that does not qualify as an answer look, so, Smh, I never said he is not smooth, he pulls me to his lap and goes eti ‘It was not even a relationship. We hang out for about 2 months” Ermmm, 2 months, Good ‘un. Feeble consolation there!? As in like that is a short time? What U be smoking chap?

  Haiya, so me, I pried…and pried, and the chap was giving me politically correct answers Lol, like “we could not connect intellectually”, the chemistry was off” Rubbish! Rubbish!
  So, I decided, ah, wtf, KM, go on, ask. So I asked *yes, I know, Hangs head in absolute shame* If erm, he told her he loves her or they had nicknames for each other. Weeeeeeaaaaaakkk!! I know!

  Mwehehehehe, because he is special like that, he said eti “KM it was 2 bloody months! I don’t even know her middle name”. LoL. Dead horse. Sasa now what does a midlle name have to do with it?

  Oh Lwad! I tortured myself you know? I bet he used to wear his thick black sweater..luuuuush, and she her perfect clothes, and they would walk holding hands and kissing kissing, and and *sniff*, I bet he would put his arms around her and go “ this is my girlfriend” , then they would make each other laugh in their perfect little world, and she knew which deo he uses and his favorite food*dies* Halafu, I bet her pancakes were ready in the middle and he did not have to come help her mix the batter. *scratches head, takes a swig of muratina*. I wonder if he would suck her toes and and touch her oh-so-perfect face kila saa. Ugh!
  

  You know how you meet people your chap dated and you look and go “feh! She has nuthin on me that”. I bet that’s what the heffer thought. OF ME.

  Anyway, so I was retrospecting on things, like when I tell the chap he looks good and he pinches my cheek and goes “you are not too bad yourself pumpkin”…..I know why. Not too bad. That’s what I am. Not too bad. Like I have seen better kind of 'not bad'
  Or, when he says “hi beautiful”, in his head it goes, ‘hi beautiful………..NOOOT” Think Borat. Vagine hanging like sleeve of a wizard. Lol, specialness that Borat.

  Or “KM you are 1 million women rolled into one” Rubbbish! All of it Rubbish!!
  

  In short, really, my self confidence has shot to absolute shiet.
  I know, I know, I mean, I have so much more going for me….NOOOT, but for once I’m like how now?

  Tyra Banks to Lucy Kibaki, LOL, how now? Kwani you have a deathwish?
  So anyway, a while later I got ejected from his lap and he went like “Si even you you dated the chap who used to (insert shit-pales-in-comparison-activity like being the behind the scenes intern in Dunia wiki Hii). Weaaaaak! and yes, yes, I know the people at Dunia wiki Hii are human...just saying.
  
  “I can’t believe you are actually reacting to something that happened almost half a decade ago” I was 29, what did I know about women?” Good ‘un. I’ll tell you what you knew….did it have to be her!!! HER!!!!?

  So, I called my friend and told her you know, that stuff, and she laughed like this loud looooong laugh and went “ngai Kamum! What’s he doing with you?”
  Great. Just effin great!!

  I also ranted and raved to others until I got a “I have met her. She’s a tad ovverated”. Lol, A tad. There's another good 'un.
  Bless.

  Contary to what this post will have you thinking, I’m not one to be bothered by looks, *sniggers* I would not say I look like an absolute shoe you know, but put me next to the heffer and intense, very intense surgery is my only way out. Plus, dare I mention the limb elongation vile I’m like 3 inches tall. Fekking midget.

  Anyway, after thinking about it, Saturday Night when my baby left for a trip, I filed for a breakup…via text.
  I hear its bad manners but argh, who will explain again now. Then I switched off my phone and got a “Quit playing KM” voice mail.

  I know, I am overreacting but *shrugs*, mwehehe, we all have skeletons in our closet…tihiii, my chap has heffer.

  Halafu do you think it helps that my face has freckles from zits I irritated like last year, ok, week, year, who the fuck’s counting!!!. Mwehe, disaster is what.
  I refuse to date a chap who dated that woman. Vain? Kwani is this that village thing where eti the chap marries the fuglee cos she has a nice heart? Rubbish! Halafu that being with somenone because they have a great personality is bull right now since some chap I used to see erm, attacked my personality. He had the nerve to accuse me of **rolls eyes** “you played me and you were very good at it” There’s another one full of rubbish! Whuot? Wow! For a minute there I had forgotten the pain I felt when he twisted the serrated knife he had firmly lodged in my back. Ngutness me!
  His nerve leaves me stupefied to date. What can I say? Its like those pickpockets who steal your bag, theeen start screaming thief. AT YOU. Before you know it, you are a tyre rim and you are being doused in paraffin for your final destination. Special.
  

  So Smh, si now I have taken the walking papers. I thought I found perfection until I discovered what it dated! Wacha tu! Sniff. I will;
  

  -Enroll to extreme makeover

  -Practise posing for the camera…Lol, weaaaaak!!!

  -Up heels to 7 oinches or see about limb elongation

  - Get weave/wig *dies* Auuuuuiii, me in a weave. Nice. The damn guy cannot even stand weaves, well, he went livid when I took out my locs ala!…wtf! Well, that’s what they all say until the weave comes on Tyra or Shakira or Beyonce or (insert preference)!!!
  
  

  So today erm, I * hides face* I googled her. Yes, I did. Then I started googling her with variations including my chap, you know like “heffer chap relationship” or “heffer chap in love” and in an insane moment "heffer broke up chap" Nuthin!!

  Pathetic innit? I know. Here I cannot be helped. Go on, save yourselves. Let me stew in this misery.

  Shame, I so dig him. Shame, I he does me too.

  
  
  
• March 20, 2007
• 7:16

  Go away!!!!!!!

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I am vaguely aware of people that should not be reading this blog reading it.
  All I'll say is........nyenyenyebubu, toka hapa, shooooo!
  There is nuthin for you to see here!!
  Ugh.
• March 07, 2007
• 19:36

  My HIM

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  And I'm thankful, so grateful for everything we have
  But for a moment I thought I lost everything
  For a moment I forgot about our memories
  Then I woke up and I realized how much you mean to me
  For a moment I thought I lost you and me
  -Brooke Hogan-
  
  
  Somehow, effortlessly, I have resigned to the fact that I really don't need to put much effort into directing my life. It always goes where it was meant to go.
  
  A few days back, I went through something over which I needed so badly to cry and the tears wouldn't come. So I picked up the phone and said to the one person I don't doubt would listen, would spare a minute for me, " I need you here. could you?". Hours later, torrents don't even describe how much I cried for a million things altogether, and he just sat there, listening, laughing and telling me about what was my fault, what was not, what to do, what not to do and I woke up, accepting so many things that pieces and pieces of my life just somehow fell into place.
  
  Funny because for the longest time I can bleed to chart my life and then suddenly, in the gentlest of ways, it just sorts itself out.
  About a certain kind of unconditional, selfless love that I have been lucky to know. No conditions. None of that drama that leaves you emotionally drained and feeling 'wtf!'.
  About someone I met a little over a year ago this month. Its the biggest serendipity story in my life. I was on a break, working on a Saturday, he was making a phone call, he wore a white polo shirt, and pants of course, and I remember thinking, this has to be the most gorgeous man I have seen all my life. 6ft tall, dark and painfully hot. With the most beautiful eyes and the most fabulous smile. Cool, Calm and Collected. To this day, every time he walks into a room, every time, every damn time, my heart still skips a beat. I have never been able to get over really how handsome he is. He smiles and everything stands still. The way he walks into a room and its like he is so tall, so cool and hot that the room stops.
  
  Just first names, chit chat and parted ways, no numbers.
  Then I met my friends later and gushed on and on about him, like any girl would, and I totally forgot about it. And we went clubbing later that evening and sometime in the middle of the night, I turned, and he was there, talking to his friend with his eyes on my back. He was there! It was the greatest coincidence ever. I looked into his eyes and knew, he would be the truth.
  
  It was not his club or anything, he was there, in the most random places ever. I was tipsy, I remember running and hugging him. I don't know why. Maybe it was a tad stupid seeing as I had met him once, but he hugged me back and when he introduced me to his friend, it was like "oh, I just met her earlier today".
  We talked for the rest of the night. I asked if he reads and plays rugby and we just talked forever and laughed.
  
  And that was the beginning, and it was the worst time to meet him.
  Since then,
  mistakes and pains later that have burned and scarred my soul, it has still been worth it.
  Hell on earth,
  heaven on earth,
  back again,
  into,
  under,
  far in between,
  through it,
  in it,
  and above. - GIA-
  
  I came to a profound realisation a while back. I trust him with my life.
  Totally and completely.
  
  Not because he is perfect or anything, but because he knows who I really am. And he has countless of times given me space to do what I felt I wanted to do. He is solidly there, 24/7, and even in the worst of times, he is there.
  
  And I learned to be his friend.I learned to accommodate his hectic life and all the things that were going on in it and the way he will still, take a single minute of his time from across the globe to say hallo, how are you, everything alright, I was thinking about you. And I learned to stand with him, to be there for him, to listen to him even though I hardly have solutions and to bask in sincere, genuine friendship.
  
  And at first I was never sure exactly why I was with him. The chemistry or his looks which translate to beautiful children or his well, um, his fortune or lack of it and I tried to find faults in him, and I still cannot stand the fact that he snores and he really is the worst person to talk to when he is watching football. He just wont respond. You will say "Where is my bag?" and he will say "Yeah". Ughhh.
  
  He is totally in control of my bullshit. Sometimes, I'll just be dramatic and swell up like a baloon and he will look at me and say "I am not in the mood for your bullshit. when the swelling in your cheek subsides, alert me by actually speaking to me" and sometimes he will just smile this huge warm smile and let me prattle on, yet sometimes he will fight with me for days over the littlest of things.
  And he gives me hard truths, about life, work and I take them all too kindly because if there were ever a single person besides my family that believes in me, he is.
  He inspires me, He stands behind me, correcting me, nudging me on in the right direction, applauding me, telling me even when the last thing he wants is to have anything whatsoever to do with me that "I am so proud of you!" and I can think of times where due to circumstances, I could not see him and I was lost for reassurance.
  
  The way he commands attention, his impeccable taste and manners, the way he leans over with his hand on his chin and asks "what is wrong" is soooo sexy I replay it in my head all day, the way he listens to me, the way he hugs me and sort of lifts me off the ground, the way his hand obliviously reaches out to hold me back when he hits an unexpected bump, the way respects me, the way I don't have to fight with him about taking off his shoes in my house, his obsession with my eyes, the way he guides me by the small of my back, knows how to pick excellent gifts for me and totally, totally, totally spoil me, teaches me how to golf and gets angry when I show no interest and I start saying things like "aiiii, who will fika that side now?", what a fabulous dancer he is and how absolutely grown up he is, the way he rationalises arguments and calms me down, the thousands of things he has taught me.
  
  The way every time I hear that song by Wyclef "your love', I get really fuzzy inside because I am not many things, but I am his girl. Its probably one of the things I am sure about this moment. Me, his woman.
  Or the way when he is driving and that "call me' song with Janet and Nelly plays, he rubs my thigh and goes 'uh, uh' singing along with Nelly and I really can't get enough of him.
  Or the way he has the ability to make me go out dancing by simply playing Ozone's 'Numa Numa'
  
  He is your average guy I suppose, but to me, he is magic. Sometimes I don't understand why he is with me, he has given me answers to that question that leave me teary eyed and genuinely wanting to be what he sees when he looks at me. I want to be that woman who steps into his day and everything falls into place, the one who is not scared of him, the one who he adores, the one who completes him in this very weird way by being who she is. The one, who loves him unconditionally. The one who is his ultimate friend. And I am very very honored that he feels that way. So I try.
  
  And if you asked me why him, I'd probably say his strength, his amazing love, how safe my heart, mind, body, soul and thoughts feel with him, how he understands, and I always know, I could be anywhere in the world and still know in my gut that I am safe with him, he has the key to everything that is mine. I trust him. we could talk about anything in the world and I can almost hear the conversation totally devoid of lies, misrepresantations and it is put out there, what you chose to do with it is really your decision. And that works because it is wonderful to be loved, but to be trusted is to be loved more.
  I know him so well, small little things that endear him to me so, the way he calls me 'Hi beautiful', no one in this world at this point can say that as well as he does, the way he insists that everytime I walk away from him I 'do this little hop/skip', the way he tickles me and the way his eyes find mine in a crowded room, his odd obsession with all clothes Hugo Boss and Lebanese food and the way he chews loudly when he is alone and goes "The food is sweeter that way" the fact that in truth he is extremely introverted, the way he pockets when he is nervous.
  
  And its been really hard. It's still is hard. The many many breakups where I return every single thing that had anything to do with him and he goes "hell no, what am I supposed to with that stuff?. Donate it to someone" Then I will refuse to see him because without a doubt, I will end up sleeping with him and he will try a weak "If you are home I'll come pick my belongings" And I just dump it in the store.
  And you would think I would have figured out much much earlier about this love that hurts sometimes but makes your life so beautiful even in the mess that you cannot possibly run away from it.
  Or that I would wake up one day and not care about him, not melt every time I he holds my hand or foot, or not sniff him and obsess over him, not bother him when he is sleepy, not smile everytime he calls and saya 'uh huh' to say talk to me.....maybe that day will come but its not today.
  
  In my heart, in my head, it's so clear now,
  Hold my hand you've got nothing to fear now,
  I was lost and you've rescued me somehow,
  I'm alive, I'm in love you complete me,
  And I've never been here before.
  Now I see, what love means......
• March 02, 2007
• 5:42

  *sigh*

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  In my heart, in my head, it's so clear now,
  Hold my hand you've got nothing to fear now,
  I was lost and you've rescued me some how,
  I'm alive, I'm in love you complete me....
  
  It's so unbelievable,
  And I don't want to let it go,
  Something so beautiful,
  Flowing down like a waterfall....... -Craig David-
  
  
  
• February 27, 2007
• 16:53

  Whine miscellany

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I'm blogging because someone is telling me a story and I cannot concentrate on much....
  
  Wuuuuuwiiii, my back is out.
  Totally screwed. Something to do with absurd positions and stuff and heels, so I have been swimming to get the disc or whatever is dislodged back into shape. It really hurts. I just hope I don't come out of it hunch back of Notre dame, condemned to black *gaggety gag* flat, closed shoes *Gags, then dies*.
  
  I swear, I am putting my locs back ummm, after I braid my hair this last time. I know, its old now... I mean, I sat at the hair dresser for four straight hours last night to have my thin needle-like braids removed by 4 women that were seriously pulling my hair everywhere. Ughness.
  
  And this is weird, I wake up in the middle of the night again, and I am fully awake!!! So i start working or stretching. I'm really yucky you know...I need to stick to proper routines.
  Like I made dinner last night, (I promised my mum that I will eat a proper dinner every night) Ugali and Fish, and I was getting ready to shower, so I was like, ok, I will eat after I shower as usual but it was like 11, I got home really late and i was really starving!! So I change to shower and the food is done right? Then I decide, ah, let me watch the news a lil, and I am watching, and I go take the Ugali pan, and it has this hard thingamajig that comes off, and I take it, take some soup and eat some as I watch news. Yaani, yuck. So, I run to the shower and I come out and I was too full to eat bla bla...Yuck.
  
  So anyway, I was re-evaluating the whole racism thing. On the general, I believe people inclined to racism, violence etc are either too closed minded or such a higher form of life that they can actually give a proper, well researched, well thought out justification for upholding those ideals.
  So whatever, anyway, that is a discussion on itself, but now, two of my girlfriends are like so racist, they will go on your face "I am racist".
  So, we are bowling and this little pint size Chut/bhai/indian kid comes over and pick a bowling ball. I mean, she is like 3 kgs ok, and her mum is na huko downloading pints or naan....and she is tottering around with the oversize ball (LOL, bowling ball) and she is so gonna fall and hurt herself. Halafu she had those black closed shoes, (I just thought I should mention in passing you know, cos my children will wear heels when they check out of hospital, yeah, even the boys) that kiddos wear and a checked ghorofa/stairs dress and pigtails....generally your usual bhai kid.
  
  So, my friend is standing there, and I'm at the other end of the alley thinking "eff no!", so, she gently holds the kid, takes the ball and sets it back on the 'that place where balls are kept". Then she turns and looks at me, you know, I was watching.....then she comes over and tells me "You don't take them out when they are kids, wait for them to grow up first". Tihiii, LOL, I know, its a sad story..I should be addressing the issue at hand, which is obviously glaring back at me as I blog, but it was just so funny the way she said it about nipping them in the bud.
  
  That said, I run up top the salon to have my nails done as in, cleaned because I have chewed them to oblivion but I said to myself, "KM, if you totally quit your one cigarette a day for 24 straight days (I smoke one on and off depending on stress levels! and the dude totally bites my head off like who the fuck he thinks he is? who died and made him boss now? sheesh), then you can have acrylics" . 24 as in, it takes 24 days to kick a habit.
  So I am bundling up the stairs as a form of exercise..ok, the lift was taking too long, and I get there panting. You have to know that my beautician (B) is the absofuckinglute best. And i gave up on that DIY mumboness of waxing yourself, sijui giving yourself manicures, ish. What? Why would I wanna hurt myself? I cannot pull that strip away!! So she is the best you know, takes her time, massages and just makes you feel like a princess okay, she comes this short of buying me a pony everytime!...and I have moved with her since she was like in a cheap joint, and she keeps moving to a more expensive salon and I know, one day, she will have to leave me behind when she goes to Dream nails where pedis cost a boeing or something, and I will cry torrents, but until that day..she rocks ass.
  And I went to this quack who shaped my eyebrows wrong and i was looking like a costume rehearsal in Les miserables or something. Yuck.
  
  So I get there and these 2 chinese women are being prepped, one of them by B. Whaaat? Its 3! I am the 3 oclock chic!! it is 3 oclock. Anyway, B says it just eyebrows so its only what? 10 minutes as opposed to my 4 hours, so i ended up sitting there waiting and Ming Lee sucky sucky 5 dollar me love you long time (SP) and her friend Susan Swallow as in Jimmy Choo's wife...(choo and swallow gerrit?) are spewing things like "In china there are no gays because Chinese men are not useless like Kenyan men". Whaaaaaatttt? I swear to you, she said that, verbatim! It is vital to note that Ming was addressing a Miro woman with whom they had come, and she was NODDING AND AGREEING VEHEMENTLY and inserting these 'rs' therein that I dunno where from like
  "yeah(Yerrrr), I'm sure there are no gays there" "yeah (yerrrr), Kenyan (kenyrrrnn) men (merrrn) are so (sooorrr) bad (burrrrrrddd)".
  
  Whaaaaaaaatatttt? Poser please!!! Poser puhleeeeeeze! Ish
• January 24, 2007
• 16:19

  Queen of shitty stuff

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  
  If you asked me how I feel now, my expression of choice is “Shiiity”
  I feel like I’m gliding past like a phantom, totally cut off from the comprehension of my surroundings or if I am comprehending them at all, it is only serving to frustrate me more and more.

  I was totally gutted that if Kenya does not allow import of farm and industrial products from Europe into the local market, we risk “immediate loss of market opportunities in the EU”. LOL, nice. Sure, dangle a carrot and whip us in the rear. Deny us EDF if we don’t yet if we do, our Jua Kali sector goes into total chaos. What will these people eat? These poor people that you are trying to save from poverty. Again, the notion of "saving" is totally lost to me.
  
  Why is the world so appallingly screwed? I see “people” “give” grants all the time, smile for the camera like *Cue for ye of the Dark Continent to fall on your knees and thank us*
  The fuck! That is so not enough!!! Considering that you used our African slaves to get you where you are, that is soooo not enough!! You just be trying to placate your guilt conscience. Don't ya'll be thinking that your development was 'independent". Yes, slavery accelerated development in Europe and the profits, monetary or otherwise of slave trade were and continue to be magnanimous!!!

  Cancel our debt you prissy Asses. Yes, and I know debt cancellation has to go hand in hand with good governance, which unfortunately Africa has *hangs head in utter shame* failed dismally (don’t be blaming the “white” man for that one. White here, used figuratively), but the sad truth is every single Kenyan owes 25,000 in debt. Every single Kenyan!! Even with the best of managers we would spend forever paying for it. Then what happens? I’ll tell you what…we make budget cuts in education, health, poverty eradication etc so we can pay back your stupid debt which as I said, no amount of money can pay us back for the ills of slavery (I’m so blaming the ‘white” man (see disclaimer) for that one. and the vicious cycle continues…the poor will still not afford proper medical care; we will still grind on about MDGs. You want to make poverty history? You absolute f***s, I hope global warming gets you. Put your balls in a juicer. Again, for the sake of political correctness, “absolute fucks” is used to describe they that know how absolutely fucked the things they do are.
  I suppose, nay, I know, there are people, all colors, African or not, who see these ills very clearly, but acknowledging them places some moral obligation on them to change things, and that in itself is a long long walk. Africa long realized that our solutions lie with us yet; the change is too long coming. Sometimes, and I know this may have me pelted with stones, I understand the frustration that Idi Amin must have felt when he did some of the things he did. Not his monstrous actions like clogging up power plants with dead Ugandans or mutilating his wife then taking the other wife to see her and going “see what happened to her? She was a bad woman”. *&^%%!!! King of Scotland please!!! Not that…just his aversion to most things “foreign” especially the pretentiousness with which they are handed to us.
  
  So anyway, I don’t want to think about debt cancellation, fair trade or global warming.

  Hence therefore, last night, at precisely 2.23 in the night, (I had gone to bed at 9.45 after having a proper dinner), my RRU (Rapid Response Unit) told me to crawl out of bed, have left over Rice, chicken, yogurt and a bar of chocolate which I washed, (lol, but I'm yucky!!) down with a cup of tea while watching South park re-runs. Then Lil’ Miss Piggy here crawled back to bed. Yes, I woke up with a bloat from Satan but my point is I am stressed!! I still, very very oddly weigh 46.5 kg!! Where the fuck does all this food go? I’ll tell you where…to my buttocks!!! Sometimes I walk and I can HEAR my ass jiggling behind me, yelling “wait for me”!! “Such pits!! Fat ass KM. Fat ass. Hippo Ass KM.
  
  

  Some days I get up, look in the mirror and think “KM, you poor, poor baby, would you like someone to come in and make decisions for you? Tell you what to wear, pick your dry cleaning, bandage your finger where you grotesquely, with totally no suicidal intention, sliced yourself with a knife, tell you the decisions to make. Would you like that KM? Just one day, have someone get through your day for you?”
  
  

  It’s been a weird week. In half a week, I have done the much thinking I, of very limited mental resources do in say a month. A month because sometimes in a month, I have capacity for amazing caprice. I can go from 0 to 140 in a month and make decisions that ordinarily take years to make.
  
  My best friend, one of my 2 came back recently. In so many ways, she is my true North and we have been spending days talking. That and the fact that people keep asking me questions. “What do you really want? Is this how you thought your life would turn out? What was your life like this time last year?”
  
  Sadly, I haven’t the answer to many of these questions. I was sitting with the girls during the girls club/chama/diva meeting that takes 7 hours at least. Usually it is a meeting scheduled to discuss important group decisions before people are too inebriated to actually think but somewhere digresses into rants about life, men, work and before long we are fighting about every single decision.
  This time was particularly nasty because my best friend came with all this jewelery and out of the blue she poured pairs and pairs of earrings on the table just went “ladies, knock yourself out”, halafu it was for free, not like A who comes and starts selling us exorbitant stuff eti “it was 5 k but I’ll give you for 4900!!!” Whoa! How fast can you say “kikuyu”!!
  It was FREE. Can you spell survival for the fittest, extinction of the weakest? People grabbing earrings, one part of a pair is with x, and the other part is with y and its like ‘give me that fucking earring you dirty slut” LOL….
  Diplomacy works thus; hide the other earring then say “ Kamum, ebu I see that one”, and theeeen, and here is the inhuman bit, refuse to give it back. LOL, no one said diplomacy is fair.
  
  Then there was an extra pair, which, I, (because I went to boarding school and had to FIGHT for food with boys. Boys are baaaad m’kay! Drugs are baaad M'kay? Alcohol is baaaaad, M'kay ), got and everyone was bitching “KM you are so selfish….how come you have two?” Duhhh, Humans are so strange!! It was extra!! While they bitched I was going “nananananana. Kiss my aaaaaassss”!
  I see how much things have changed. There are babies, good and bad relationships, drama for yo mama and so many differences on where we are all headed that we need to go legal to contain the mess. LOL, when I met these girls 7 years ago, the perfect day was spent dancing on top of tables totally pissed.

  So lately, I realize how much I actually hate growing up. Maybe I lack the capacity to make all the decisions that life throws at me.

  An absolute truth is I am so shit at some things in my life that I don’t even care to ask people for advice because I have discovered that people’s propensity to philosophize about MY life leaves me more confused that informed.
  I sat for 5 minutes with someone that has the ability to read my mind and he had those quiet chuckles that say, “I know you” and for a second I thought, “By golly, you are so wonderful” And I missed something about him, his quiet strength. And then I remembered how firmly shut that door is and there is another someone who can make the world grind to a halt with 1 phone call, one gentle kiss with his hand on my neck and my only hope is to really see what this ‘love’ can do.
  
  

  Another absolute truth is that maybe getting what I want, which I'm not anyway, in all these other facets of my life is not satisfying me. The concept of satisfaction totally eludes me. Every single satisfied desire breeds a new one. Any satisfaction I seem to achieve is fleeting, a ground for new desire and slowly I see how little worth desiring these things actually were.
  I need to read. Study more. Some hardcore philosophy. Someone shamelessly asked me to predict what might be America’s move in the next two years in regard to Middle east. Attack Iran? I don’t know. Fortune telling is not my forte but I could smell the rubber burning in my brain at the mere prospect of answering that question, which I did with a 0.5% degree of accuracy…. not that I could be fucked really about the assified moron that is Bush.
  
  I don’t know for fuck’s sake. I just want a plate of very chili fried potatoes. Ah yes! Food. My WMD! The binge continues!

  I’ll tell you what though…what I need is a holiday. Alone.
  Just to clear my head. Not to make any major decisions because I long made up my mind to learn to stop trying too hard to understand life. That maybe I should live spontaneously and forget future oblivion or remember it knowing full well that remembering or weighing the consequences may torment me to the point of being unable to actually live and enjoy life.
  
  Then I will eat chocolate, drink no less that 3 milkshakes, what can I say, 3 is my number of choice, eat chilli chicken, shit I’m gonna cum at the thought of it, lool.
  
  

• January 21, 2007
• 15:34

  craaaazyyyy over my guyyyyyy. Tihii

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I was having a bad day until this morning I listened to Capital and they kept playing this fuuuuny clip, you'll find it here, if you haven't heard it before. Rock on Fareed!!!
  
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHs8fDnhvbQ
  
  Tihiii, LOOOL, "cellphone cellphone". I am soooo dead!! I am so totally dead!! Could she be anymore funny? Huh? LOL, that video!!! mwehehe, "I don't have spare change"....did you see her strutting down that street. LMAO, the strut, the jeans, the dude, the 'girls' with the routine oh, this is so wrong! Now what? What the hell are they doing na huko in the bushes?
  
  Now, I have been walking around humming.,.."My guy, my guy is baaad...I'm going craaaazyyyy over my guyyyyyy" LMAO. **D.E.A.D**
  
  Ah, good times!!
• January 16, 2007
• 15:23

  Rant miscellany

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  I am having a shit time getting used to the new year. I'm still sluggish...I hardly get anything done all day...I just eat junk…oh yes! yumm yumm. I hate eating alone. Most times I'll go without dinner simply because I have no energy to cook or enjoy a meal alone.
  
  My body, nay, sorry Booty! feels shiiiiiiityyyy. I am exhausted. I barely made it through a yoga session last week. My tendons are all fucked! I can't make even half a circle, my hamstring cannot stretch for shiet. I know I need desperately to exercise, maybe swim or have lots of sex…but I have outgrown my swim suits, halafu my stomach has this thingamajig sticking out of the sides…Ughhhh!!! Totally sucks because I have to get a tattoo like last week and an unsexy back is so not the way to go!!
  
  

  Theeen, I have been growing my nails since forever (I’m a nibbler with extremely weak nails), then I got acrylics which totally weakened my nails and left me with weaker nails…so I grew them halafu the other day I’m scratching a card then boom! It breaks!! So I cut off all the rest. I have had it!!! Such fugly hands!!

  Hair? Need I even go there?! How can I have so many problems?!!!
  
  Halafu there is a locust family at mines. Ughhhhness!!! There was Mummy, then now came daddy looking for mummy, then baby looking for mummy and daddy! Uggghness!!
  Uh, Oh! Which reminds me!!! Last week or so, a certain dude dropped by for a visit, (read, take my Garfield treasure book and make it theirs!!) and at my doorstep was this huuuge, fugly locust anga grasshopper thingie (the mummy), which I was not scared of, but as precaution, I asked the afore said ahem, gentleman to “dude! Do something about it!!” Tihiii, can you spell spineless? Can you spell flight not fight? LMAO, duuude. Take my sandal, tell Locust thingio “shoo’ halafu, it turns and looks around and visitor flees to the gate!! Yeah, brave KM was left calling after the little lady to “please come back its ok”, and I had to give the watchie 10 bob!! To kill it! I will be kind enough not to mention who it was. And then I just figured out, all by myself, that that little lady is really really brave. Ughh! these uptown children haki!

  AOB
  Say what you will, but I believe, the ability to sit on a man's lap, stare him straight in the eyes and without batting an eyelid ask 'Baby, can we holiday in Seychelles next week(insert evil of choice)?" is an art you will never learn from books. I dunno, maybe you can. Ten out of 11 times, the answer is "sure", or "we'll see" or "arrgh! now you!!". It has something to do with the fact that in truth, men are really feeble creatures *ducks meteor* and if you have a man's back, he'll do anything for you. True story!! Actually, you don't even have to have his back, mwehehe, but that would be plain mean right? That storo of "hakuna pesa" is a laaame liiiiiieeee!!! Ok, so maybe, sometimes there is no money, or time or maybe they really have to watch the game but I'm just saying, there is money, the boys can be dissed if you know how to ask. Izz all I'm saying!
  
  

• January 11, 2007
• 16:20

  Happy new year and gone to the dogs

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Happy New year folkses.
  After a long fabulous break…family, gifts, rearing chicken. Cool stuff.
  I have no resolutions. The way I see it, my life, a skilled tormentor, is free to careen in the shit direction it has been taking, and if it feels like altering course and pleasantly surprising me, I will be honored.
  Beyond that, I only intend to kneel and pray, or merely whimper.
  
  At the beginning of the year, I had one resolution. To commit. To a living thing. Animate. Preferably a dog. Or a man. There.
  "This is the year I work through my phobia", I said.
  I need to be a nicer person, to stop being such a colossal b****.
  
  I know I’m lying of course. Commitment and all that boyfriendy-girlfriendy stuff kills me!! I love nothing more than to sabotage as exhaustively as possible, a stable relationship.
  Seriously if an angel appeared on my death bed and said “forsake self-sabotage while you still have time and you can live forever in the perfect relationship”, I would shit in his halo and tell the feathery fool to be off.
  
  The part I should be clear about of course is, I don’t ‘love’ per se, but it comes naturally to me that I eat, drink, shit and self sabotage.
  
  Actually I went into therapy about my commitophobia. My Mummy, teacher-turned shrink. (It breaks me that my mother had to rear her kids before she could go back to school to study. I just don’t get it. Shelving yours dreams like that, I love you mommy). Anyway, Mummy decided to sort me out, against ethics of course since you don’t shrink your own…you prolly caused it. There was nothing like semi-lit room sijui lie comfortably and let it all hang out. LOL…just small talk after lazy lunch.
  I know my mum is fed up with it. Like she was so happy that I was with Superman for (insert time), and now sasa its shot to shiet/ or is gonna shoot, same difference, halafu she is not getting any younger in the quest for grandkids vile none of her children looks like getting hitched ever.
  I mean, if you were a mum how would you feel. LOOOOL.
  
  Anyways, it went;
  
  Mummy: How is your boyfriend
  KM: we broke up
  Mummy: when? what happened
  KM: Mum, I dunno. I think we have broken up.
  Mummy: You love him?
  KM:I think so
  Mummy: Trust him?
  KM: I don’t know.
  
  (At some point, exit mummy, enter Dr. Phil)
  
  Mummy: How are things with you sexually?
  
  *gasp, gasp*, how am I to tell the woman who since I turned 16 asked every month if I have had my period eti I get spanked on the regular and mad cunnilingus every morning? You are kidding! Tiga wana meni…My mum can go talk sex with her deprived subjects whose husbands are banging 18 year olds, not me!
  
  Me: Fine
  
  (exit Dr Phil, enter Mummy)
  
  Mummy: Have you been tested? Are you using condoms? Are you safe?
  Me: Yeah mum, we got tested.
  
  (Re-enter Dr. Phil)
  Mummy: Sometimes your sexual relationship, can tell to what extent you trust each other although other things matter as well.
  
  At this point, I am very uncomfortable, so I excuse myself to go feed the chicken.
  Anyway, fast forward to hours and hours later, my mum said that I am a control freak *rolls eyes* and “you avoid situations where you might lose control. It may be due to the fact that you have witnessed situations which you feel the aggrieved parties could have exercised greater control yet their judgments contradicted to what you felt should have been done…” blab bla. As a result, I am apparently obsessed with self preservation and general disregard for other people’s feeling but my own.
  
  WTF!! The woman, who is not my mother, I mean, tell me you picked me in a reed basket from the river and we'll be even ok?…whose mother tells their child that?
  Anyway, amid tears, I picked my diagnosis from hell after mummy told me again that I may be spending too much energy on controlling situations. She stabbed me from every imaginable angle!! So I decided, fuggit, I will commit, and I promised to try. You know you are fucked up, but when your own mother tells you that, something's gotta give.
  
  The only reason I promised was because I agreed with Ma’ that I would try to let things be ‘without compromising my ideals on what I deserve and how I should be treated”
  There was also some sparrow shit about meeting people halfway nini ninii.
  
  How can I say this? I have seen fucked up, and I avoid fucked up. I have seen people totally in love end up heartbroken. How people’s affections dwindle over years into a bored and complying acceptance really is beyond me. Whatever goes wrong? I don’t know. I don’t intend to find out.
  That story of walking around with bad hair thinking of tethering your neck because another human hurt you is pure fuck. To give another human such power to crush your spirit and have you driveling in psychotherapy is surely retarded.
  
  I have been hurt. Nothing major though. I bounce back and move swiftly along. Anything more than that and I would kill myself. That is how disappointed I would be with myself. I would rid the world of the shame.
  
  Needless to say, 2 weeks later, I am fairly certain I have broken or will break, (same difference) that promise. I know I will over analyze, I will be a control freak. I will be the same selfish person with my feelings. I will self sabotage. I will not commit. Feed that resolution to the dogs.
  
  Matters not helped of course by the fact that I heard this woman bitching on radio that her husband came home wearing a woman’s panties.
  LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL. Tihihihihi,. LMAO. I know, I know, such grave insult really but aiiiii, now how the eff does that happen. In my head that is just too damn funny!! Halafu, LOL, yaani, that is pure madness. Tihiiii, eti a woman’s panties! Kwani he forgot to toa them after role play was over…*smh* did he dress in the dark? Did he not fel the ‘different fit’….Oh! a thousand questions!!! Tihiiii.
  
  So, seeing as I have no resolution, there is nothing to hold me against. And for all those with resolutions, the best to you. Happy new year everybody. Blessings all around.
• December 02, 2006
• 18:05

  Measuring a Year

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  525,600 minutes,
  525,000 moments so dear.
  525,600 minutes
  How do you measure a year?
  
  In daylights,
  In sunsets,
  In midnights,
  In cups of coffee.
  In inches,
  In miles,
  In laughter,
  In strife.
  
  In 525,600 minutes –
  How do you Measure a year in the life?
  How about love?
  Measure in love.
  Seasons of love.
  
  525,600 minutes!
  525,000 journeys to plan.
  525,600 minutes –
  
  How can you measure the life of a woman or man?
  In truths that she learned,
  Or in times that he cried.
  In bridges he burned,
  Or the way that she died.
  
  Though the story never ends
  Let’s celebrate
  Remember a year in the life of friends.
  Remember the love!
  Measure in love.
  
  Another year gone.
  I woke up and thought about this year. What it has been about for me.
  It fills me with peace sometimes just to think about my life, how it seems so crap at times yet I never stop to wallow in the mess.
  That amazes, me I amaze myself. My spirit amazes me.
  
  And what has been in this year for me?
  I could be an ungrateful shit and say I have nothing to show for it, yet I know I have so much to show for it.
  My friends, my family, and the things I have done.
  I have taken risks.
  Crazy risks that affirmed how smart I am, how blessed I am, how lucky I am, what courage I have got,
  I have done things I never thought I could,
  
  I have loved, I have lost, I have broken hearts, I have had mine messed with.
  I have danced, I have laughed, I have cried a river,
  I have been reminded what a beauty I am inside and out, what brains I have got, what abnormities I have, what a fantastic human I am,
  I have wonderful friends, family that will bleed for me
  
  I have watched my family get through another year, together, against the odds,
  I have admired the courage and resilience of my beautiful, fantastic sister,
  I have wept and prayed for the mistakes of my brother,
  I have learned that parents are parents
  I have found amazing strength, selflessness, regard for family, inspiration and sheer brilliance in another brother
  I have watched my sweet cousin take up her mother’s burden, make it her own and excel at it. She is still excelling, she is still brilliant, she is still beautiful, her spirit will lead her to greatness I know, and she is my person of the year. She really is. At 19, she has dealt with more than any of us will deal with in a lifetime, and every time I look at her, in her quiet wisdom, in her amazing beauty and realize, I wish I had even half of her strength.
  I have watched my cousin wed, laughed with my nearest and dearest and basked in those get togethers where everything simply falls in place.
  I have found strength in my parents, my Ma and Papa, the wind beneath my wings and I know, if not for me, for them only, I live to make them proud
  
  I have got through the year with one of my best friends away,
  I miss her, I miss her, she knows me, she understands all the things I do, she knows the workings of my mind
  Yet, I have been with my two absolutely fantastic girlfriends,
  We laughed, got drunk, danced, got heart broken, laughed about it, cried about it,
  They yelled at me, they rooted for me, they brought chocolate,
  We grieved together for A's loss,
  We grew up we lived, we worked, we learned
  
  I loved
  I found amazing love with an amazing man,
  I love him.
  I love him so much I could knit him a hat,
  Yet I know, I fight demons,
  That for all the things I do, one day, I might stand alone, surrounded my achievements or lack of thereof and by the people who warned me, who rooted for me,
  And I will see through clear eyes, that I was never strong enough,
  That this will really have passed me by
  And all the things, the time I will have sacrificed to get there will pale in comparison to the warmth I feel in the place I find love,
  I am perfectly aware, yet, I will sit back and hope, just this one time, I will be accorded the forgiveness due to me.
  
  For the new friends I have made and lost, bloggers included
  For everyone who checked on me,
  The absolutely lovely Muts,
  The gorgeous Ms K,
  The I will die if I’m not funny , absolutely wonderful Nick,
  The cool and fabulous Thinker
  The Sweet Shiro,
  The beautiful Nakeel
  The cool Gish
  The mad Kritik
  The crazy Udi
  The quiet and resourceful Bankelele,
  The fantastic human being and wonderful friend Mental,
  The ones I have not met
  Thank you all, for the comments, the reading, the everything.
  
  I have been so blessed, so lucky in so many ways that looking back,
  I cannot think of a minute I was not living.
  I cannot think of a minute to be ungrateful about,
  I have grown up so much this year and in so many ways,
  I have learnt more than I can recount really,
  And I am grateful for all these things,
  For the strides I have made, forward and backwards, they served to get me here,
  For my friends, for my family, for everyone who crossed my path,
  
  And I measure it all in love.
  
  Happy holidays and blessings everyone.
• December 01, 2006
• 15:18

  World Aids Day; Keep The Promise

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Stop Aids, Keep the promise.
  
  Sometimes it may look like 'that disease that afflicts other people', until you see a friend, a relative facing it, living it, fighting it.
  That someone, is someone's son, daughter, sister, father, mother, brother, friend, relative.
  Then it is closer home to you.
  And you understand.
  Its a battle that has to be won.
  
  Every time I read statistics, every time I see numbers, I ask do I know anyone in those statistics?
  I see HIV/AIDS statistics all the time.
  And in those numbers, I can count, a child, a friend, a relative.
  That is the power of numbers.
  They may mean little if you cannot relate to them.
  They may mean nothing if you do not know someone who falls into those statistics.
  
  You should know,
  Africa is home to more than 60 percent of the 40 million people worldwide with HIV.
  
  In Kenya only, a few statistics;
  **Remember these statistics do not account for those that have not been tested.
  
  There are roughly 164 new infection everyday, roughly 60,000 new infections every year.
  Sixty thousand!
  
  1.27 million Kenyans are infected by HIV, half.....are women,
  
  64,000 women have tested positive and need treatment, and again, this excludes those that are not tested.
  
  39,000 children need Antiretroviral drugs (ARVs)
  
  Out of the 263,000 adults who require ARVs, only 90,000 are getting them.
  
  And every year, roughly 115, 000 people die of HIV/AIDS related illnesses.
  

  1.2 million children have been orphaned from HIV/AIDS- related illnesses.
  
  1.2 million children. Do you ever wonder, who are these children?
  where are they?
  what do they do?
  what do they eat?
  what is the future for them?
  

  Sometimes I wonder what would happen if from today, this moment, there was never a new infection in the world. None. Not one. And it can happen.
  

  Its about getting tested, together with your partner, every single time,
  
  Together, because your partners status is not yours.
  
  
  Its about being faithful, if not for your partner, then for health.
  
  Its about being safe all the time, never letting your guard down, never getting lost in a moment,

  Its about living positively if you are infected,

  Its about remaining negative if you are not infected

  Its about offering love, support, care to those that are infected..abolishing all forms of stigma
  

  Its about good governance,

  Its about seeing the disaster for what it is and making a deliberate effort to fight it, eradicate it.
  
  Be safe, get tested, stay safe, walk the walk with those that are infected, support them, help them live positively, care for and about them, accord them normalcy, because yes, it is a disease like any other, like cancer at the end of the day.
  
  Its about a million things at once,
  

  Its about keeping the promise, Please, please, Stop Aids.
  

• November 25, 2006
• 15:34

  The Beatles and I

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  
  

  
  

  This morning, I woke up and started dancing to my Beatles. A neighbor nonchalantly asked me “what are you listening to?"
  What?!!! Of all human crimes committed, that is one.

  
  

  Who asks about the Beatles like I would ask about one of these ‘people’ that sing nowadays. I know that statement just bundled me firmly where I long bundled my parents, but….I would only ask that if I heard something like “here’s my dick, hold it for me”. Then, I would ask, who dat is?

  
  

  The Beatles?!!! *smh* Don’t disrespek (yes, I am confident my neighbor can relate to 'disrespek' as opposed to 'disrespect')
  Anyway, I was walking down to the shopping centre and I run into this dude and it went like;

  
  Dude: Hi, I have to confess, I was walking to Uchumi but I saw you and decided to walk to meet you. I think you look very good.
  
  *smh* what can I say, it came with the genes. Issss just a lil baby phat phat!

  
  

  Me: Thanks
  

  Dude: so I was wondering if I could have your name and number

  
  

  Me: (to give credit, the man be fine. okay. He looked good and he was in shorts and sandals, and vile I’m a sucker for men in cool khakis and black Tee’s…just saying) My name is Christina.
  
  The guy knows there is no way that is my name. Eti Christina. Chritine, maybe, Christina…Pfffft, how that?
  Its weird. I wonder how men feel when they get told such lies. Like the guy in the club I told my name is “Imelda”.
  I have nothing against Imelda, but I do not look even remotely close to one…, and I am shit at telling lies with a straight face. The next time I saw him, he came and said to my face like 4 times “hi Imelda”, and I was looking right at him before I went “Oh hi”, and I felt so shit that I told him “you know what, I’m sorry I lied to you, my name is “KM”.

  I haven’t lied bout my name since, I dunno why I did it this time. It was the safe thing to do.

  
  

  Dude. I’m,(insert name)….awwww, halafu it was a cute, manly name. Nothing like Desmond, not that there is anything wrong with Desmond!! Are you not going to give me your number?
  
  Me: Another time maybe
  
  Dude: Do you live around here?
  
  Me: Not really. I’m visiting friends. (another lie)
  
  Dude: (Looks at me, smiles theeeeen, and here’s the scary bit) Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you or anything.
  
  What? Kill me? Duuuude!! that really is no cool thing to say. That is shite scary!!! Eish!! He might’ve used nicer words like I dunno, anything….who uses the word kill?

  
  

  Halafu it does not help that I have been reading this voluminous scary ass book Crooks Crimes and Corruption, its brilliant, you wont find it in Amazon you cool amazoners, bully for you!!!, tehehe!
  

  It has these stories of sijui kina Jack the ripper and that totally weird Emperor Bokassa of CAR, yaani the man was plain mad. I was laughing when I read that story, it was not funny that he killed school children who could not afford uniforms he forced them to buy, obviously at an atrocious price and more importantly from the clothes company he owned, halafu he throws them in jail eti “ you wont need uniforms in jail”. Children!!!!
  What was funny though was how much of a ‘forcist’ ‘jipoxer’ ‘insistor’ the man was. Tehhee, eti he used to call the French President “papa”. I give up.

  
  

  And theeeen, during his coronation, he had spent hours self sequestered, LMAO, I bet he was pacing at the mirror being all ‘queeny’ and things, watching re-runs of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation so that he can have one like that!!!! Negro Puhleeze!!!

  
  

  Which he did, only that most people politely declined to attend when they heard the unreasonable and selfish ends he had gone to to make that happen like borrwoing I dunno, only 10 M pounds, halafu, the few that showed up were fed on “delicious” nyamas, of errrrm, the prisoners he had fattened in fresh air and good food. I doubt they knew what they were partaking in. Yiiikes!!
  That book has all every single event that has happened in history, from Hitler to Catherine to Idi Amin to the Mafia to Jack the Ripper to Bonnie and Clyde to Count Lustig, the con who sold the Eiffel tower, TWICE. Twice Daddi (i like using that word, mwehehhe, if all only to piss snotty types off), Twice!!
  Total absolute unadulterated coolness. I should be a detective, a con, a dictator, a spy, a swindler, a femme fatale, a murderer a villain.
  
  End of digression/ wannabe book reviewist mode
  
  So I was saying, I am a S.L.U.T for the Beatles. Waiiit, come back, I’m not that old school. I know I have landed myself into trouble with my friends when I want to listen to Beatles while they want to listen to ummm Mariah Carey *gags*. “looooove, takes tiiiiime, to heaaaaal when you’re hurting so much” **hand me a sick bag**

  
  I know some of you cool people only know of Songs by the Beatles like “Let it Be”, sijui how “yesterday all your problems seemed so far away” and if you really try, “A hard Days night”, and you think you know the Beatles. *smh*, children of today.
  Why don't clubs have like "Beatles Karaoke night" every effin day!!! That would be superfrigginfantastic!!

  
  

  Like do you remember how Carnivore Rock night used to blast "hard day's night" and kids, yes, would scream they 'have been working like a dog' and dance to it like it was all new and ughhhh, annoying pests vexxing me!! I will eat a child I swear!!

  
  

  I’m sorry, I can sing along to no less than 50 songs by the Beatles. Word for word, with the little harmonies like ‘uhh’.
  I will trade Morning sex for Beatles. Okay, I kid, but if I had to, I would be at crossroads. That, for me, is dilemma.
  

  My parents love the Beatles…and **looks around, sighs** Dolly Parton, LOL, yeah, my folks are uncool man, they pretend to be all cool and collected when I’m going nuts prancing around dancing to the Beatles. Mummy would prolly say something like "KM, could you please stop playing and do the dishes", tehehe.
  Mother( I have always wanted to say that!!, Mother! Like some Brit Aristocrat! Like if my mother was being mean to my fiancé I would say "Mother!", and peace shall prevail you get? **sighs, I'm so on my own here**)

  
  

  Well, mother listened to the Beatles when she was pregnant with me, prolly singing to my father that ”You never give me your money. You only give me your funny paper”, teehehhe, but I got bit by that bug.

  
  

  I love every single song by the Beatles, every single one. I love even the ones I have never heard, not that there are any. I have heard them all, and I am a happy camper.You hate them compared to how much I love them!!
  Don’t you love how they have a song for every mood?
  
  Like when you are really down in the dumps you go like “help me if you can I’m feeling dooooown. Pleeeeease help me”
  
  Or when you have fucked up and dug so below the ground that you can taste the mud and you go like “Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da life goes on bra, la-la how the life goes on”.
  
  Or when you are accused of evils against men and you sing “Did she understand it when they said,that a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure?”
  ** rolls eyes, yeah, duuuuuhhhh, he must. Is there any other way?
  Man = break back. Period. What can I say? I'm spoilt.
  

  Or when blinded by *gags* love, you go like “Till there was you There was love all around, But I never heard it singing…I never heard it at all. Till there was you” *gags*, Beatles!!!, don’t be letting me down like that!!
  
  Anyway, my all time favorite song has to be “when I’m 64”.
  One time, after a year of my life I cannot account for or talk about, I was little, prolly 9, and that Christmas I was with all my family, and we all danced to that song.
  It is really cool.
  **Lotus, bullshit head**
  It speaks about contemporary issues that men still grapple with. Like ummm, “If I'd been out till quarter to three, Would you lock the door” *smh*, men, but they never change, but they are so ambitious. Open the door at 3! I’m just saying….No honey, I’m sure there is a nice warm bed where your ass has been maybe perhaps?
  
  Of my most prized possessions are thoughtful gifts I have received. I am that kind of person who ‘people like to give gifts” I do not know why, but I likey. I likey very much. Just to cover my end, I am not saying shoes, even those a size bigger, bollocks!!!!, books, jewels, clothes, chocolates, holidays, scents and ‘dolby sorrounds hook ups’ are not thoughtful.
  I’m just saying that some of the most thoughtful things I have, are;
  - My Birthday gift Beatles Collection, and
  - The lip balm I surprisingly found in my bag when someone noticed that mine was cracked.
  He exchanged the broken one for an exact same new one.
  That sounds stupid I know, but the thought process that went into it chuffed me to bits. God knows I love the man but oh well.
  Both times, I have sat down to steady myself, shed a tear and really, if I lost these things, if anyone takes my lip balm and Beatles from me, (picture KM holding the afore said items close to her chest and almost shedding tears as a bunch of bullies approaches her, sniff,) you might as well steal my soul, hook me up with a sack cloth and find me a corner on River Road to pass my days....just saying.
  
  
  
  

  
  
• November 15, 2006
• 5:59

  Bollocks in order of;

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Ughhh!! My life is a snowball of bollocks!! This is a bollocks week. I think I will eat a child to feel better!!
  
  1. She failed at pretty hair.
  
  I know this sounds retarded but how do those cool people keep hair and still manage to look like they have been skating on an ice rink?
  Because, me, since I took out my locs, my hair has been subjected to contraptions that do not last a week because my hair is so light. I have had braids, then fancy braids, and some curly shite thingio at the top and an afro puff in a month and two weeks!!
  This is CRAP.I know I should, nay, must, get my locs back, but Christ, the trouble to watch them loc again!!! I should be asking again, for the gazzilionth time, why please lawd did I take those glorious locs out?
  Next, tehe, I’m getting a weave. Yeah, I want one of them horse hair thingies.
  Yes, yes, I know they reek of fakeness-trying-to-be-Caucasian-mami-please-you are black-and-not-black-american-either-neither-are-you-Tyra-and-even- she-rocks horses-okay-that’s-not-her-hair-as-does-her-freind-Oprah-uuuuh-look-at-us-we-are-talk-show-hosts-and we-gat-cool-hair-give-me-a-break-okay-and-your-hair-is-only-rivaled-in-grease-stripping-by-sokoni-steelwool-so-get-over-it **gasp**, but yea, I’mma wear one.
  Time to eat crow for all the times I have from the glory of my locs looked down upon women in horsie.
  
  2. She dunno about Hire/fire
  
  What is this thing about delegating halafu eti chose your team halafu someone has to ‘let go’ of the non- performers. They call it that, but really, its firing and me, I don’t have guts for that, yes I suck, because I want to be the nice guy. Feh! Who wants to be the bad guy?
  Halafu, you how would you feel if they ‘have to down size” your rear.
  Sigh, I wonder if they have dependants because I would rather stick a jagged knife firmly through my back anytime than deprive children of school fees and visits to row boats in Uhuru park.
  Uh, oh, how to fire people with humor? Yeah, laughter is the best medicine see?
  
  Boss: Knock knock
  
  Employee: Who’s there?
  
  Boss: Not you anymore.
  
  Tihi. Not funny? Oh well.
  
  3 She failed at domestication
  
  Okay, first, yes, today I’ll go home early and make chapatis.
  How that? **looks around to see who heard**
  Like ok, my chaps range between crackers and cardboard right? I
  swurr its jus the chaps, as in the finished good. **sighs, gives up**, but on the real, the dough is always soooo soft I could use it as a pillow, my, but if we could eat dough mine would bring all the boys to the yard!!, but the chaps are like from another mother!!!! Else I’m an exceptional cook. My story and I am sticking with.
  And cooking is therapeutic when you done bad stuff right? So I’m going to make some cardboard chapati tonight and invite someone to partake in, then peer very very closely at his face. I’m better at reading expressions than at hearing lies.
  
  4. She succeeded at binge and poke poke
  
  So I went for my half yearly Well Woman check the other day. Trauma. They squeeze your tatas like they want to draw blood, theeen, poke, poke (repetition for effect) around your fore regions, *smh*, and insert this thingio, with a “you will feel some pressure” warning!
  Pressure? Feeeeking pain!!!!
  Uh, oh, I ran into my gynae in a club once **first to find a rock beneath which to hide**. Jayzuz!! These people should have their own “we probe for a living” club. How do you even say hallo to someone who put you in stirrups and lay you spread-eagled. Ahhh, but for loss of face haki!! And they are not even sleeping with you!!!!
  Anyway, so I went on this shite pill and my appetite is shooting through the roof. Of course I’m glad. I weigh a misery 46.5 kg, I have the meat, it’s my bones that are light…and I thought this would be good to gain angalau a few kilos yawa so I can order my nephew around…..but I am fretting. I am eating all the bleeding time. And yes, I am waking up at night to eat. Ugali. Ugali. At 3 o’clock. What am I? Witch hunting?
  In fact, if I have to be totally honest, that may be why I am making chapatti. Tihii, and my neighbor in shags who showed up all the time we had chapos!!! Ai, but to scrounge haki!! Halafu you reduce people’s rations. Eish!! who I would never have the courage to do that. I would feel like people were judging me.
• November 02, 2006
• 14:30

  Threesome anyone?

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Filed under “Haiya!”
  
  So, yesterday, a friend of mine tells me, eti the jamaa has decided eti, him, him he is tired of fighting for human rights and all, so he wants a threesome.

  KM’s immediate reaction, “Eyes-a-popping. And yes, my eyes are big, let it go.
  
  Anyway, turns out the dude was not kidding seeing as he called to ask “have you thought about it?”.What a hyena!!!
  No, he didn’t have anyone in mind, said Pinocchio but on the general, it’s a fantasy he would like to see come to life.

  The worst bit is she is so repulsed by the idea, she does not want to, yet he keeps insisting! Now that’s just plain selfish and disrespectful. If she does not want, she does not want. That would be a very easy decision to make. Go get stuffed!
  
  Now this thing about fantasies right? Let me ask. You talk about them right? You say you would do them if they would turn your partner on right? But if it came down to it, bana!!! The logistics!!!

  Some are easy peasy. Like having a predilection for being spanked, hard fucks, gentle nipple biting….wait, is that fantasy or a way of life? Thin line. Thin line.
  That is as close as some of us come to nurturing our masochist tendencies.
  I may not take a whip to my rear really because, ouch, but there is something about spanking that says “I’ll make love to you tomorrow, today I’ll just fuck you” Just as well. Swiftly moving along then,

  So, this threesome thing.
  I ran home and tried to trick the jamaa, Superman if you like, into fessing up. Yes, with bated breath lest he said yes, let’s do it tomorrow, but we could not seem to agree on whether he would want a MFF(Male Female Female) because obviously he threw politically correct crap at me like, ‘hell no, I cannot stand another person, man or woman touching my woman’…..to “I would do it if it would really turn you on, but you are all the woman I want and need”. Muppet! (Mental 2006). The man just be fronting. Pretending to be the sacrificial lamb eti “if it would turn you on, I will suffer through it and have a threesome” and I know;
  He would trip over a stool.
  Break a foot.
  Running to participate.
  If the event arose.
  Then I asked about a MMF (Male Male female)…ummm, that was a very interesting discussion, but yeah, he is not qualified to give opinions on this threesome thing. His thinking process is flawed.

  I dunno. I really don’t.
  I, for one, might smile and wave over a threesome lakini that mama would have to polish herself up because NO WAY my man is touching her.
  What? Are you smoking grass?
  And neither would I go down on her. Yes, I know it will do nothing to helf me solve the mystery of what pussy feels like in the mouth.
  I hear is as soft and luxurious as salmon. I dunno, that’s what I heard.
  I know what it (mine) tastes like. I have my ways, but it would be awesome to scan your kitty and lick it wouldn’t it? Narcissistic? I know.

  But moving straight along, the logistics of a vagina (herein referred to as salmon), you can go down on really? A nice, neat, happy, clean, healthy salmon. Then maybe I can wrap my mind about eating salmon.
  So, yeah, I can talk smack about threesomes, chest thump even, lakini aiiii. Ok, maybe I would kiss her and suck on her tits right? Tits are cool, I have nothing against tits, but seriously??!!!

  And then there is the issue of me being extremely possessive and all.
  I cannot even stand to see a random woman talking to my boyfriend. I don't smile, I don't wave. If I do not know who she is to him, my natural instinct, repressed of course because that is what restraint is about, is to give that woman a wedgie, stuff her bag into her mouth and tell her to git gone!! I mean, what if she is telling him stuff like “baby, you wanna fuck?”, seeing as I’m not within earshot and all, yes, those thoughts cross my mind, and yes, I know they might be saving the world so let it go okay?

  So, me, the woman who if I had my way would stuff my man into a brown plastic bag, yes with holes to breathe- What? I’m not homicidal, and a few rations of food then lug him around.
  Me, that girl, how do I even begin to wrap my mind about threesome? Another woman? Stop jokos (Udi 2006).
  
  Then there would be the issue of designated roles;
  -Who would choose the third party?
  Let me just say, if it was left to me to pick the other female, in the interest of playing saboteur and all, I would bring you something you cannot tap even with a 2 inch thick blindfold. ‘Something the cat dragged in’ would cease to be an expression as you know it. I’m just saying
  
  - What would be each parties designated role be?
  In my head, the woman would not touch, suck, kiss, or come near anything, but, that’s just me. She would be reduced to a mere onlooker really.
  

  Halafu, and here is the traumatizing part right?
  What if your jamaa starts going at it with that mama with that look of ‘this rocks’ on his face and you are left wondering ala! Si me I’m the mama? Si I thought I own those goods wholly and exclusively” How now?
  Can you spell Coitus interruptus?
  Stick a knife thro my back or tell me to date a man who has never played rugby any day please thank you.
  That threesome stays firmly entrenched in our heads, because in all truth, I see myself standing over 2 dead bodies with a bloody knife in my hand screaming “I thought I said stop!”
  
  I think what saddens me about my friend’s hyena boyfriend. Yes, what a hyena, is the fact that of course, of course she should be allowed to say no if she is not comfortable with it. You don’t force someone to do that stuff. That is no different from rape!
  
  

  For me, really, that is the stuff you talk about but if it came to doing it, you would have to consider what kind of relationship you have, would it strengthen you or leave you in a jealous fit and if you could sincerely stand seeing someone else within your partner’s peripheral vision.

  Halafu, kwani she is not enough? Me, if my one woman freak show is not enough for you, haiya, go watch girl and girl porn and leave me alone.
  
  I’m utopian like this right? I wouldn’t expect the man I love to seriously ask me to do it if I was uncomfortable with it. I like to think that two straight people can complete each other in all rational ways in bed. I like to think words like “baby, would you like to f*** me while another woman (insert evil of choice)” is not taken at face value.

  Share my man? No way Jose.

  And in the same breath, in the interest of fairness, how do men feel if a woman asked for a MMF?
  Its funny, men are not very receptive to a MMF, the same way most, not all, men tend to be repulsed by Gays yet pitch tents for lesbians.
  Sorry, I’m already hyperventilating (not in a good way) at the thought of an MMF, but knowing men and their egos, that would be downright messy.
  First, they would be trying ‘go first’, then to outdo each other at your expense. You would be the sore (pun fully intended) loser in that one.

  Then there would be the guy who would go home sulking because maybe he is less endowed, in size and skill, and God forbid if that man was your dude, well, not mine I'm just saying, because you would spend years in shrinkage (no pun there) mending a very very bruised esteem.
  If it’s MMF, it’s a blow, beneath the belt if I should mention, to a man’s ego and perceived ability to satisfy a woman. But noooo, when it’s the MFF, its okay because, men are turned on by the whole lesbo thing.

  I dunno. Hell, I would think the man did not love or respect me enough if he asked me to do it. And still yet, to totally contradict myself, I might want to do it but really, it’s all a blur. You want to keep the intimacy between you and the person you love and you want to experiment…Maybe with someone I was not in love with, maybe with someone I trust enough to be that adventurous with. I dunno. I just don’t.

  But I am the prude. Would you do it?

• October 30, 2006
• 12:10

  No alcohol thanks,

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Seriously, I disgust myself. I do.
  
  I am never drinking again!! I know I said that after last office party at Christmas last year, but, eiiishhh.

  Thing is, my body is not very well equipped to handle vast amounts of alcohol…and I hate, totally loathe the feeling of drunk and out of control.

  I cannot have more than 3 beers in a night.
  Yes, I consume shots and concoctions too, but on the general, I am very unpleasant to be around when I am drunk.
  I sleep, I rant, I wanna go home now!!! I wanna gag, I wanna lie down for just a minute..people piss me off. Ughhhh! And then there is the unpleasantness of just being unable to control yourself that bothers me.

  For me, it starts with the inability to hold a drink in my mouth.
  I spurt (euuugh) it out when I laugh, grossly disgusting, please God!
  And I know, if I keep drinking more, I’m going to be in funk. That’s my cue to switch to water and to dance. With someone I know. Don’t you just hate dancing with people you do not know?. Sheesh, you dunno their scent, its weird, they stick their crotch into your ass, Why oh why do people do that? Yukk.
  
  Yeah, so the spurt is my signature move. Some people start to slur and philosophize. Dude, you can’t be a slurring philosopher…and they are speaking CRAP by the way. CRAP. (I hate drunk slurrers. It’s so tiring to listen to people think/doze before they can speak).

  Uh, oh, some switch accents. One minute you are sitting with this ‘cool’ person, with this Brit accent to go, and halfway into the evening, he/she is spitting kikuyu and kikuenglish like Njenga Karume, and you sit there thinking. What the….!!!
  Teheheh, I like to laugh at such people. No, really, I laugh at people in their face.

  Uh, and the ones who cannot walk in their heels/ broken heels/sling shoes over their shoulders and walk to the car barefoot kinds. I totally love those; I may have been a victim of that. Maybe. Perhaps. Parking lots are littered with those. I like to be watching that drama. Not be in the drama!!!
  
  Tihiii, don’t you just love it when you are tipsy. Just right. A little tipsy and horny, and funny, and pretty and sexy and you dance and guess what, you feet hold their own, ah! That’s the best place to be.
  Not the kind of drunk where one minute you are conversing and the next you are flat out blacked out!! Ama you are stepping on people and falling over them on the dance floor!!

  So anyway, I did get drunk. Very. I know I drank not less than 6 different drinks, in colossal amounts. I drank wine from a box too. A box!! Could I be any more of loser?
  And I drank some ‘dawas’ my cousin made (her version of, she got the recipe online and they kinda taste like Carni ones, she even puts those R(B)amboo dawa sticks thingies) ….very yumm.
  And I drank shots of so much shiet that at some point I was loud, and I could see people thinking, why the hell are you yelling? And, aaaand, my mum called me and I was yelling down the phone and she goes “when did you become a shouter?” Faaaaaarrrrkkk.

  I am so off alcohol. I feel really yukky.
  I remember;
  
  - Finally got into bed
  - Room is spinning, and my stomach is doing this whirlwind thingie in sync with my head and the room, I hate that.
  - Sat up abruptly to stop the spinning
  - Lie back down. Spinning continues. Open eyes to stop spinning. Nuthin doing
  - Sit up, a-fekking-gain, thinking. I NEED TO PROJERCTILE VOMIT if I’m gonna come out of this alive
  - Drink some water
  - No vomit in vicinity
  - Lie back again, spinning. Sweating. I’m hot
  -God please forgive all my sins
  - Pour cold water on my face and on my bed. Yes, I was IN BED. Bliss. It was so cold..and nice
  - Have to vomit
  -Stagger into bathroom. By stagger, I mean I was swinging from one side of the room to the other
  - Stop to laugh at my staggering. Tihii, I gat jokes.
  - Get to bathroom. Kneel.
  -I think I feel like I wanna go.
  - Stand, sit on toilet, hold head in my hands
  - No go.
  -Revert pose, stick head into bowl. Spit in. No vomit.
  - Stick effing hand into mouth
  - Halelluyha, gag for a minute. God! What did I drink? I vomited evil. It tasted like fuckin cardboard when it came thro my mouth. Y.U.K.K. Was that shite in my stomach?
  - Finish. Brush.
  -Drink a liter of water
  -Get into bed
  -I’m freezing now…..

  UGHHHHHHH! I am not drinking like that again. How could I forget how crap it feels to be drunk!!!! Ugghhhh.
  
  
  

• October 26, 2006
• 13:34

  I can't think of an appropriate title.

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Right okay, so I’ve learnt to bend to a few admissions; truths if you like.
  Personal truths.
  Not the kind of truths I know inauthentically, acknowledge then but somehow manage to do it in a way which forecloses on the truth’s full significance on how I live.
  
  I have a few of those as well..dont we all? Oh, don’t be fronting, you do.
  The truths where your existence, sorry, your sorry existence conspires with this evasion and you exist within the confines of ‘average everydayness’ if you may, gradually wasting your life in the self-deception of ‘they’.
  Illustration…You light a cigarette and go ‘oh, its just one a day, they who smoke two packs a day are they who die of lung cancer or get bad skin”
  For a minute, then you wake up one day and realize that really KM, this habit of yours is nasty…you can’t keep going to the drop hole toilet with your cousins at family parties eti to suck on a guff, eish…so you say ‘ah baby, lose the fags, lose the fags'.
  And you do it for months!! Months!!! Until erm, one random day you are sitting with people that are sucking on them cancer sticks (let’s call them as is shall we, ) like it’s the best thing since sliced bread (expression’s sake, I much rather a quarter of block bread thankyouverymuch), and somehow you end up asking-begging-pleading-demanding, in that order, for a puff, I swurr just one…or 20, arrrgh, who’s counting and immediately you are done, you feel like all your good deeds in your past that teetered dangerously close to knocking Mother Teresa off heaven’s list pale in comparison to a rogue politician who just recarpeted the road to the coffee factory, not that we ask, why kind sire now, when for the last 5 years we had to row boats to the factory? But you suspect, it might have something to do with looming elections…I’m just saying.
  
  What challenges haki!!
  Oh, did I tell you like how I once sat in an interview and someone asked me what challenges I expect at work and I said errmm….. “None spring to mind”.
  Right, ermmm that was not a very nice/clever thing to say, what? It was my first interview ever!! but I can’t help if I don’t see challenges as challenges per se. **assumes lotus** 'I see them as opportunities. '
  Needless to say, I did not get the job.
  Tihiii. I think they didn’t like me enough.
  I think I’ll go to the garden and eat frogs.
  
  I mean, really, challenges are things like accepting football’s place in a man’s life.
  Challenge is trying to wrap your feeble mind around how someone would say that the only reason he would not let you have a baby on your own is because *man’s hands fly to face** “You will turn him(the imaginary baby is male, as you can see inequality begins way before conception) into an Arsenal supporter. Oh shucks my life would be ruined!!”
  That is a challenge.
  You could stand there, perforated notepad in hand and appreciate that it has nothing to do with your parental ability or lack of thereof or just honestly ask, because you know shite about football “who is arsenal”. You may also hyperventilate. Pick your poison. That’s a challenge.
  
  OK! Alright, fine, bending to admissions.
  
  Some you don’t need divine intervention for. Like living in the perfect knowledge that this dude, well friend, well, I dunno, well, Wallace and I are proverbial oil and water. Yaani perpetual conflict does not do it justice. If I randomly said “the earth goes round the sun”, Wallace would oppose it. For sure.
  Not that research suggests otherwise but because that is his job. You don’t get it? Closer home, I could say “hi” and Wallace would ask ‘why?” Usually I reply “Go get stuffed you leperous moron”. Well, that reply is not voiced, not all the time….but it plays out thus in my head everytime.
  I think I accept. That kind of opposition can only be construed as an absolute difference and distinction between separate identities.
  
  Anywhoo, shall we get to the truth I am accepting?
  I’m growing old(er), and very very much in love with a F.A.B.U.L.O.U.S man, another admission I am learning to accept.
  I am 25 Saturday, blistering barnacles in a thundering typhoon@!@@#!#$!@!$ this is not right.
  
  **runs to mirror, checks face, checks cellulite, checks stretch marks, checks sagging tits merely a shell of their former perky selves**
  
  Wait!!! Like with tits right? Let me ask.
  Does sleeping on your tummy like flatten them out? **feeling of vanity and idiocy takes over KM, but she prattles on** I always get up in the middle of the night, realize I’m sleeping on my tummy and kick myself!!
  What? You think I’m vain…talk to my best friend. She absolutely hates pieces of meat with bits of fat. I eat them for her. I love the way the little blobs of fat explode in my mouth and infuse themselves with Ugali. Give me Novocaine haki…that shite kicks rears!!!
  
  Alright, so I’m older, much much much wiser if you ask me, accepting my truths, and accepting that my rights, my wrongs have served to make me the person I am today…and really really loving that.
  
  I dunno what I came to post about. I swear it was NOT about my looming birthday, but anyway,
  Come Saturday, I’ll be taking cheques, drinks, chocolates, and gift certificates (for e.g shoes, bags, jewellery, gadgets etc).
  No one should buy me a gift because I do not want to trouble you (read I may not like it).
  LOL, I know, no one intends to. I’m just saying.
  
  Funny, I know I am so getting none. I am looking into people’s eyes like “you know my birthday is Sato right?’ and they don’t look like they will remember. What atrocity!!
  
  I told my girlfriend, well, gently reminded her, and she went like “f*ck, I know!!” the way she said f*ck is like “bloody hell, does it have to be this Saturday”.
  
  *sniff* you can’t blame me if I was born. If you don't want me jsut say it. Hakuna haja ya kunitesa.
  And yes, I know I should stop canvassing because;
  
  **grudgingly assumes lotus and voice of mummy at 10 when there were no balloons at my birthday and aii, me I threw a tantrum, we had fucking ribbons!! Ribbons!! , yeah, the village shop had run out. Like, I could see my classmates looking at me like ‘dooood, is this even a party?**
  
  “ This is a time to be thankful KM, It only matters that you share this day with people who love you. If you don’t shut up I will smack you so hard you will remember that every time you see a balloon”
  Mummy!!! Still, mad love for that woman. Mad love.
• October 20, 2006
• 14:00

  The Art of Losing

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  The art of losing isn't hard to master;
  So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost, that their loss is no disaster.
  
  Lose something every day.
  Accept the flusterof lost door keys,
  The hour badly spent.
  The art of losing isn't hard to master.
  
  Then practice losing farther,
  losing faster:
  places and names,
  and where it was you meant to travel.
  None of these will bring disaster.
  
  I lost my mother's watch.
  And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
  The art of losing isn't hard to master.
  
  I lost two cities, lovely ones.
  And some realms I owned,
  Two rivers,
  A continent.
  
  I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
  
  Even losing you,
  the joking voice,
  a gestureI love
  I shan't have lied.
  
  It's evident the art of losing is not too hard to master
  though it may look like...... like disaster.
  
  E.Bishop.
• October 18, 2006
• 16:31

  Gracie, Price Index and Phantom Caller

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  For the strangest reason, I dreamnt/dreamed I was having a never-ending dinner with Grace Maathai, and all she could talk about was errrm, her braids.
  Something about me combing out my dreadlocks, one by one for two weeks, yes it can be done although I shed hair like a rabid dog, I feel odd having no locks after 2 years…., why did I do it really?, I am so getting them back like next month,
  Something about that is coming back to haunt me…or why would Gracie (term loosely used to refer to Grace Maathai, yes, I know she is not aware of my ‘endearement’ term for her) and I discuss of all things possible…hair?
  Serious, we were giggling like old girlfriends talking about matters of immense importance like hair, right, maybe we mentioned in passing if it were possible to have enviromentalists use 'eco-friendly' braids, weaves, hair wax and such, but you get it, the gist was hair!
  Why would Gracie do that to me?
  
  Theen, I got up this morning and I kept mumbling “Laspeyres index, Laspeyres index ”!!!
  Why? Besides the fact that I have lost my marbles, again, which for me really is a state of normalcy, why would that word, which I vaguely remember from Macro or Micro was it? Economics 311, like I totally flanked that class, at best a C...at best!!!, feh!
  I had to find my old economics books, yes, I keep them, iko shida? just to remind myself what it really was...and I found, its a price index and I thought, oh yeah, it makes sense...NOT
  
  Anywhooo....
  
  Point of information, I do not take calls after 10.30 pm. I am supposed to be asleep. It does not matter if I am or not, but as far as I know, the only people allowed to call me past that time is my immediate family, 3 of my girlfriends or their case of emergency people and my boyfriend.
  I make exceptions for international calls sometimes, depends on where/who from, but really, I like the only call I receive after 10.30 to be my baby’s only.
  
  Largely, my family and friends understand how I feel about late calls, so if they are actually calling me at that time, it is bound to be important-can’t wait till next day.
  
  My boyfriend? Well, no excuse for this one really…he is the last voice I hear before I get to bed, and we like to speak when we are done doing everything, yes, even if we spent the whole day together…..we get off on stifling each other see.
  I feel odd sleeping without speaking to him, and aaand, when a man has the patience to call you up when your tummy hurts and give you 5 minutes to gag before conversation resumes, then yes, he can call me any damn time.
  And primarily because, he respects my time and aaaand if he calls and I’m too sleepy, he wants to let me sleep... And I groggily mumble/lie, “I am up really, you did not wake me up” but errm, oh well, either that is a mad case of double standards or I just simply really would chose talking with him over sleep, which I make no apologies for.
  Yeah, my superman, the one with an S on his chest.
  
  It scares me when people call me at that odd a time because my immediate reaction is “you are crazy to be calling at this time is something wrong and don’t tell me you just wanted to say hallo could you not do it in a godly hour lord please!!”
  
  Theeen, there is the weekends, and people, uncouth dare I add, ask “where are you?” I do not reply to those texts/calls either because I am a not a last minute back up, and if you did not care enough to call me earlier in the day and make plans with me, then I have no business telling you where I am or picking your call on Friday at 12.30 pm, while you clearly inebriated scream “where are you guys?” and I fight the urge to say “us guys who?” .
  
  *Shrugs*, It does not augur well with me….
  I’d much rather ski down Mount Everest.
  In the NUDE.
  With a carnation up my nose.
  
  
  Right, So I get this phone call at 1. 26 am .
  I’m groggy, very sleepy, very unfriendly.
  I do not put off my phone when I go to bed, seeing as I have explained, ala! Kwani you were not listening, that I do not expect late calls.
  I keep it on, there could be an emergency see, on sound, the vibrate drives me I.N.S.A.N.E especially because I can hear the phone going ‘brrrrrrrrr’ and gingerly hopping along.
  I just hate vibra when I’m asleep.
  So, my phone is on volume…ascending to annoy me, I get off on annoying myself see.
  For a girl with so many rules I should really switch off the damn phone no?
  
  So I hear the phone ring at circa 1am, and I know that is not my boyfriend’s tone, or family, or girlfriends, or emergency people.
  It is bound to be a nondescript so I smack it silent.
  Then it goes again,
  I smack it silent.
  Then again and I smack it silent.
  
  Point of information, I have no problem with hearing a phone ring, hitting the silent button and picking up from my sleep where I left off.
  Really, if I was jumping off a precipice, say in search of adventure, going ‘aaaaahhhh’, then the consequent events will be;
  smack silent button>
  resume midair cliff-jumping matter>
  continue with …’’hhhhhhh’
  
  Kss kss, I never really hit the bottom, I hear if you do you die, (Ptuu! Ptuu! ) ,
  As you can see (read, read), I am alive to tell it but it strikes me as odd seeing as no one actually died, came back and said “erm, I died because I hit rock bottom (literally)” shrugs, oh well.
  
  My nondescript calls again for only nine times.
  Eventually, I grab my phone.
  Peer at it, totally hating the blue light burning my face
  Then I get a glimpse, (one eye open), of the number.
  I don’t know it.
  
  Rigggggghhhhhhtttt, I hope its not some ‘arab’ speaking person.
  Funny I get those all day, they say “Hussein blab bla”,
  
  Bla bla herein used to mean that for all my lingo, I frankly cannot make head or tail of what they are saying, I suppose its Arabic, but seeing as they cannot get the number towards whom the afore said 'bla bla' should be directed right, how sure can one be what their chosen mode of communication really is? It could be Arabic, it could me gibberish...frankly *shrugs*, I dunno.
  
  .....then I say “wrong number” then they click and hang up, so much for courtesy, theeeen they call again, I let it ring, then they send “please call me thank you” (arrrrghhh), then I don’t call back then they call again and go “Hussein blab la bla” and I hang up.
  
  I donno, did they not get it the first time?
  
  Could it be really? (gasps, hand flies to agape mouth…..)
  
  Are they what? Dumb? Hard of hearing?
  
  So, finally, I decide maybe you know what, let me just pick it up. Who knows right?
  
  KM: Yes?
  Phantom caller, herein referred to as PM): Hi KM (they actually know my name, boo yaaa!!)
  
  PM: Sorry to be calling so late
  
  That actually softened me up. That they realize they are calling at a very unfriendly time, and make an apology for it, whch fooled me into thinking they actually had something important to say as symbolized by their persistence and apology.
  
  KM: Yeah, it’s a bit late. Can it wait till morning?
  
  PM: NO. Please, I had trouble tracing your number, please it will only take 5 minutes.
  
  OK, work with me here, I’m alert now. This sounds as important as, **gasps** world peace!!, not hair with Grace Maathai, which I was eager to get back to by the way, and see where it ends, like could we possibly talk real issues please Grace!!! So I sit up.
  
  KM: Ok, who I’m I speaking to?
  
  PM: Guess who?
  
  OK, don’t do that.
  Really don’t.
  Not to me.
  Don’t do that.
  My mind is so totally NOT programmed to be mocked like that.
  Don’t ever ask me to guess who is calling.
  Especially if you are calling at that time of the night.
  Especially ever!
  Don’t mock me.
  
  KM: I dunno who.
  
  PM: ______ (he mentions his name then waits for me to have an ‘aha’ moment, I don’t. I do not know the name, I have never met anyone with such a name, EVER, and I know, I am good with names…and I was not drunk because I do not give my number to anyone when I am drinking. You give me yours, maybe I will call, maybe I wont, but I'm not giving you mine)
  
  KM: ooooookay. How can I help?
  
  PM (sounding very very offended) You don’t know who this is do you? Okay. Okay. Fine see ya.
  
  KM: (glad to be relieved of these late pasttimes,) OK, bye.
  
  PM: No No. Wait…its me. We met at your cousin’s wedding? Don’t you remember? I got your number from your cousin’s friend.
  
  (right, ok, my cousins wedding, where I met only 500 people, most shaking hands no time for proper introductions…yeah, duuuude, how can I not remember?)
  
  KM: OK. Sorry I don’t remember you. Can we talk during the day please. Goodnight.
  
  PM: Are you married?
  
  KM: Sorry?
  
  PM: Are you married?
  
  (at this point, I have lost the point of this call as I’m sure, so have you. In fact, so had PM)
  
  KM: yes.
  
  PM: To who? How long have you been married?
  
  KM: Goodnight
  
  I mean, really, I know I sound pathetic saying I’m married and all, I hear that lie is generally a preserve of 'insecure women' hurtling towards 50 alone....totally overrrated that we all need to be married if you ask me, so totally crap that people have the audacity to label women who cannot find a man worth their salt as desperate, even worse that some women need to use that lie, but seriously. This guy. This guy. ….uuuughhh!!
  
  Alafu he kept calling and calling so I put my phone on silen mode, woke up to 12 missed calls and a text message saying LOOOL, “Please tell me if you are available"
  
  For what I wonder, **smh**, aiiiiii, me I’m not.
• October 10, 2006
• 16:11

  *Nada*

   » ‎ KenyanMusings

  Right…okay, blogging on a holiday is sooo loser. **flutters eyelashes, kicks foot back** Passing time and over indulging at my cousin’s house. I have a feeling I will get a stomach upset…no really, I know it..I can see coming.

  I should have spent time with my man *giggles/breaks into a sweat/hyperventilates* tihii, yeah, my boyfriend…maybe I’ll do that later or tomorrow. I could just lie there and kiss him only for like 12 hours and sniff him. He is my superman. The one with a an ‘S’ on his chest!!! Sorry, His big chest. Ooops, soory, his big warm safe chest.
  

  My niece. Sigh. What a pretty child. I came in and had this conversation with her;

  Niece: auntie (me), (hugs me)

  KM: Hallo little lady (she does not like to be called a little girl)

  Niece: Hi. Whast did you bring me

  KM: (rummages bag, comes up with 'orbit' chewing gum)

  Niece: Aiii, sitaki hiyo. Hiyo si tamu.
  

  KM: (Thinking ooookaaaay, time to go to the matrices) Yeah? After lunch we will go get you something real nice

  Niece: I had lunch teneeee!! (long ago) (i love the way she says that)

  Ngai, no loopholes haki, so I started tickling her(so she could forget, sigh, whaaat?) and she was getting offended, totally not tickled, going "noo! Nooo! give me what you brought me first"..sheesh!!!
  

  She is ummmmm errrr, heavy. She likes to eat. A lot. She can eat you under the table…Lit and met….she likes to go under the table when she eats. I came in, lifted her and she said “ Auntie (insert my special name), I’m heavy..I’m sorry” woiyeeee, double sniff, sasa now who told her that.
  It must be that evil (the neighbor is evil, and the boy is evil….the apple don’t fall far from the tree) neighbors boy who thinks my Niece (yes, I know she is 3) is hitting on him and **rolls eyes**, she is so not!!!!
  
  I weighed myself today.
  Nothing to do with my niece.
  Way before I got here even.
  Way before I went to the park and saw funneee couples and people singing and the man I refused to talk to because I was busy reading, duuuuh can’t you see that, and he told me “malipo ni hapa duniani”, errrrrm, Ok yeah, what did I do wrong?
  Way before my boyfriend came by looking goooood and kissed me and gave me chocolate (ok, I’m fronting aren’t I?).
  

  Way before all that, I weighed myself. Boom! 3 extar kilos. Yaaaay. I kinda like the way they are gathering around my ass. Boom shakalaka!
  Tihiii, and my man arms, and my tummy (oh, who am I kidding, I gave up on that kitambooo!). Me likey. I think I will hit the gym. Soon. One day. In the near future.

  Maybe I should save the world….or have a baby. A real one this time. Not my imaginary daughter, *rolls eyes* a real one with flesh, blood and a yep! A name.

  2 of my girls are having babies. Yaaaay. I want mine. Mine. Mine.
  
  Yeah, my boyfriend *shivers* we will get married *shivers* and have a little girl with his and my everything….last name included, and aaaaaand, I will put in a petition for my man arms, yes, on the girl. She is gonna be hooooot! I know…I have seen good genes running there.

  
  Alright, ok, so I’m sprung…a lil bit.

  *shrugs*

  If I sound like an airhead, Its prolly because I feel like one. I, have been for the last 1 hour been watching ‘Dora’, and yes, singing along to it with my nieces and nephews. Dora!!!! Do-friggin Ra!!

  The scary bit, is ummm, I was actually enjoying it more than they were!!!! What’s with that? Pass cerelac.
  
  

• September 25, 2006
• 14:30

  GRATITUDE? WTF!!! WTF!!! Arrrrrrghhhh WT bloody F!!!

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  You can only have listened to Classic 105 this morning to be as pissed off as I am today. My God! Ugghhhhhh!!! This is why I hate radio talk in the morning. It fucks me up! Totally upsets my day!! the politics...now this!!
  
  So, this woman calls the station. She found, while being a good wife and emptying her husband’s pockets, a pack of condoms with two condoms missing. So, she calls her mother or was it sister, to ask for advice on whether she should confront him or let it slide, and the sister/mum (who cares!!) tells her to be GRATEFUL he is using a condom, and that he is a great father to her 2 kids.
  
  I don’t know what irked me the most…the fact that at that point I was convinced that marriage is indeed the farthest degree of alienation from paradisiacal life, or the fact that women, married women were calling telling her to thank her lucky stars (in verbatim, used loosely here) that she has a responsible man because get this…HE IS USING CONDOMS!!! And hence, not confront him.
  
  In what friggin twisted world is that responsible?
  In what twisted world would one think twice about confronting him?
  In what fucking twisted world would I think twice, nay, even solicit advice over the fact that I found a pack of used condoms in my man’s (used fluffily) pants?
  
  The man to whom in an absurd, ludicrous but hey, scared nonetheless wedding day, I promised the standing formulae of my heart’s desire…love, cherish, and hold no other bla bla?
  Where was I when these changes happened? That now it’s okay to cheat?
  
  And where are these women?
  Just how many of them are out there?
  No, who are these women telling her to be grateful?
  Grateful because he is taking care of the children. Was there ever a choice?
  You bring your offspring into the world, you damn best take care of them. That is neither up for debate nor is it something to thank you about.
  Take me away on an exotic holiday, rub my tired feet at the end of the day, buy me diamonds, call me in the middle of the day to say hi and you love me, then I will be grateful. Taking care of your children? Tough luck. It’s your job!!!
  Well, in fairness, our job. Its our fucking job!!!, and I would be under very grand delusion to thank you if I find condoms in your pocket. I might have been thinking of thanking you for being a great Papa to the kids’ pre-condoms but gratitude post-finding-the–blasted-condoms would be the last, the absolute last thing on my mind!
  
  Another woman called, saying she went through the same, and the man, the man, the bloody man said that “the watchman gave them to me”. Perfect!! Just perfect Mr. Pinocchio, can you see beyond your long nose? Not only do watchmen nowadays guarantee your security but if you are really nice, like really taking care of your children….guess what, little jig party there, they give you a pack of condoms with two missing. Double yaay! Bring out the champagne!! Power to the watchmen!!
  
  Wtf!!! Thennnnn, the same woman, she, Mrs. Pinocchio, in parting, says “Maina, I’m just grateful he is using condoms. I know he does it, but…..(insert bullshit here)” Why please lord…whyyyyyyy?
  
  Give me a minute here. Is it me or did grateful not mean ‘profound feeling of thankfulness’ the last time my class 1 or was it 8, what can I say, I bloomed mos mos, teacher pounded the meaning into my ass?
  
  The fugged up bit? I could tell the woman was smiling through the phone!!!! Not remorseful.
  No profound sense of loss from the realization that this man has failed her.
  Just a smile and a word of advice to her fellow aggrieved friend to be…yep!
  Grateful!
  
  Why? Why please Lord would I be grateful to man whose sexuality is obviously haunted by his own impossibility of fulfillment?
  Why would I be grateful to a sexual exile, the asshole, my husband, but an asshole nonetheless who has chosen to wander the earth, Nairobi if you please but hey, we don’t know how far he has been spreading his spawn, seeking satisfaction, never content.
  There is nothing, no single thing in that behavior for this, or any woman to be grateful about.
  
  It would break my heart if anyone told me to be grateful about it. Primarily because I would be talking to a divorce lawyer and making sure that this man sends me a child support cheque every month. Don’t chastise me with that “it happens, if you were in it you would know” bullshit. Just shut up okay! Cheating does not just happen!!
  
  It breaks my heart into smithereens that so many women accept this kind of behavior and it has created a culture where relationships are becoming so exploitative, regressive and a ritualistic acting out of past histories.
  
  And these women, by serving such quintessentially defeatist ideologies are, without even realizing it (the saddest part), creating a culture where for those who lack the strength to demand and expect without relenting, fidelity in marriage and relationships, then for those, it becomes okay to cheat as long as you are ‘responsible’.
  
  I sit for a minute here as I type this blog, and think have I in my own way perpetrated this ill when I say in jest to my people “if you have to cheat on me, and I don’t expect you to, please use a condom”? Is that construed to mean, “its ok as long as you use a condom”, because if so, I am guilty of poor communication skills, a class which I aced in theory, but who’s asking…while in fact, what I mean to pass across is “I need you to love me enough to never put my health at risk in this day and age of disease”.
  
  Disgust. Utter disgust is my reasoning’s only proper response to the grossness(is there such a word? Grossity?) and complacency of chosing an ‘Its ok as long as he is using condoms” approach to the issue.
  He has cheated on you woman…what other sign do you need?
  He slapped your face, what other sign do you need?
  And, aaaand, do you think in a world of over 6 billion people you would fail to find a man, just one, who loves you and respects you totally and completely? Just one?
  Aiiiii halafu (small digression) what's this bullshit of turning it around on people, eti "I cheated because you grew fat, you are undesirable (insert any other variations masked as a reason here)"....walalalala! Me, I dont care if I have piled on rolls of flesh, if you don't want to fuck me, haiya, tell me first, I give your, or rather you give me my walking papers then you can go fuck 'the non-fleshy ones' you pompous little faggot!! ughhhh. I'm saying, I will do my best to remain the woman you married and I will need you to remain the same man I married. Fair is fair. Period.
  Sigh, hiatus has done nothing to tame my putrid mouth haki..I am so sorry. wooosa!
  
  It is fucked up. These are issues feminists grapple with every day. That culturally motivated falsehoods have created these smug women who think that they are lucky to have a husband, an asshole, but a husband nonetheless. And these are real issues. Fluffy on the surface you think, like battering women, disrespecting the essence of women? Your bad.
  In the real sense, as controversial as it may sound, they epitomize the hatefulness of patriarchal society in aesthetic disguise…..the husband.
  The only luck about a husband is only if he is a damn, and I cannot emphasize enough on the hot damn, good husband. Getting a man to marry you is not luck!!! It is NOT luck for fuck’s sake.
  
  Still, at the end of the day, as is with every feminist issue, this is something that crucially involves, but goes beyond gender. It is not, (just like battering or marginalizing women in every sense of the word) an issue that is essentially and only the preserve of men, or of women. And therein lies the biggest misunderstanding of all. Its not about women fighting men…it’s about fair for fair. Period.
  The men who do it are no less guilty than the women who accept it.
  We have all been there, we all are guilty of creating a culture that at the end of the day boils down to the people that accept certain kinds of reprehensible behavior and those that see, through clear/controversial eyes, a culture so pervasive that even those directly aggrieved by it fail to see.
  
  And the biggest task, the part that actually hurts the most, is not that men will do these things, that men batter women, that men disrespect women, the hardest part, the place where change should begin, is the most murky….that women accept it, they accept that they deserve that kind of abhorrent treatment.
  And as long as there is even a single woman harboring that kind of complacency, the battle is far from won.
  
  Sigh, I dunno if I am expressing myself as I would like to here….but, I will say this. Call it Utopian, call it feminist…no one has to accept my perspective or share my conviction, but I, KM, of sound mind, and I say this unflinchingly, without batting an eyelid, and I stand by these words, and say them for all and sundry to hear, I would rather wither of heartbreak, of stigma, of being alone(shiver…**rolls eyes**, so totally overrated that flawed notion that you need a man to complete you), than be with a man who disrespects me (insert here, cheating, beating, and such other transgressions to the fantastic woman that is KM). You don’t get it…I don’t care how much I love you, or how many critters I brought forth for you, but I fucking embody confidence, and believe me, ridding myself of you, the fucked up degenerate husband/boyfriend, I am sure would do me more good that harm. I really do not give a fuck about ending up alone….I have lived with myself for 24 years, I think nature would appropriately subject me to extinction if I could not survive sans a man in whose pockets I find condoms. That is how I feel about it. I doubt anything less than profound and dare I add, abnormal would do much to change that.
  
  A husband or a boyfriend who cheats on me is NOT the best I can get.
  To expect unwavering fidelity is NOT in the least bit utopian.
  
  Arrrrghhh. I dunno. I just don’t.
  
  **slinks back from whence she came**
• July 02, 2006
• 14:44

  Hard fuck, the wedding, old people, Alan, clean hands, mohawk bla bla bla.

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  Disclaimer: I have not lost my mind( yet), It is mine to give away- Robbie Williams
  
  This waiting for divine intervention is a mutha!!! Its killing me people…killing me!!.
  
  The problem with getting some is when the supply gets cut off, its quite the bytch getting back into the bilas routine.
  
  Sorta like nicotine withdrawal.
  
  Ah, but in two weeks the memory should have faded.
  
  Halafu, Nairobi is freezing, and the bilas train is freezing!! Upside to Nairobi freezing? I get to see men in sweaters. Men look too damn edible in sweaters. Yaay!!
  
  Me, I need a royal fuck. A hard fuck.
  
  I don’t care if is fuelled by anger, or tension or its just a mere hard fuck day, but I have been thinking about one.
  
  You know, the one where a man dedicates himself to fucking you royally and mercilessly hard.
  
  The one where you do not understand how your clothes came off.
  
  I don’t even want foreplay me. Foreplay is for sissies and Days of Our lives.
  
  Foreplay will be the build up of taking one look at each other.
  
  The hard fuck where you do it in a million ways.
  
  And by the time you are done, you have been fucked against the door with your legs straddling him; you have been fucked from behind, from the side, with him on top and with you on top.
  
  The hard fuck where by the time you are done, your hair has been pulled, your titties and ass squeezed, you have been spanked and flipped over from every direction.
  
  Yeah, you know that flipping when you get flipped over and he does not come out of you cos if he did you would strangle him? Yeaaahhh, that one.
  
  The kind of fuck where droplets of his sweat are falling on your body and your back…*sigh, sweat rocks!!*
  
  The kind of fuck where no one speaks because you are all concentrating on the ‘hard fuck’.
  
  No words…jus labored breathing and the only time anyone speaks is to say ‘oh damn!” when you are almost coming and you start tightening around him and he has to firmly grab you by the ass or the waist and drill deeper, push a little harder, then some more so that he can get in all the way.
  
  Ahhhh yes. The joys of a hard shag haki
  
  Hard fucks kick ass.
  
  F for Father give me strength to resist the devil and his evil stunts.
  
  Enwei (Ospone, 2006), I was just saying cos when you are on the bilas train, the devil takes over your mind and starts building nuclear bombs.
  
  Arrrrghhh! Men suck. Throw rocks at them.
  
  CLEAN THOSE PAWS
  
  Now, I was brought up by a mother who infected me with the habit of washing my hands immediately I got into the house.
  
  So I am all for clean hands me.
  
  That said, I frankly cannot stand my goodies being touched with hands that have been out there touching money, hi-fiving the boys, scratching yourself, changing tyres, shaking hands nini nini….ughhhh, yukkkkk.
  
  You want to deposit all that dirt in my holy, pristine place?
  
  Quadruple gag, no one touches, fingers, checks for oil or probes my kitty with dirty hands mimi.
  
  Even I, KM, do not do it myself before I have washed my hands.
  
  My paka is a clean, warm, happy place that does not like germs.
  
  And I am only saying this because I demand that people make a habit of cleaning their hands when they get into the house, or when we are leaving the club (cos we might detour before we get home).
  
  And if there is no water, I hook you up with a wet wipe tissue cos else, **gag**, those mikonos are so not gonna see the pearly gates to my kitten!
  
  Its common sense right? Wash hands before every meal no?
  
  THE WEDDING AND OLD PEOPLE
  
  I attended a friend's wedding on Saturday.
  
  Awwww, weddings are like so cute and all, just hope in 10 months he will not be looking kina KM in the eyes, over a beer and swearing he is not married.
  
  It was a beautiful wedding really, although it was like freezing cold, and KM and her beautiful strapless dress and "I could so rock your world right now" heels went to waste.
  
  Oh yeah, I am one of those people who attend weddings to seek out eligible ones.
  
  Don't you se it people? All the time? Those old greying coupls stuttering "w-w-we met at a mutual friends w-w-wedding"
  
  Small digression. Is it me or really, really old people look like small animals?
  Yeah, like My grandma? My Brother and I are in total agreement that she looks like she is gonna eat us.
  That idea must've been planted in my head by some movie, or my father reading "Little Red Riding Hood to me all the time!!! Ughhh.
  
  Anywhooo, back to the wedding....so, I did not see any "Mr. Rights" there but I swurr there is one coming up in August where I will come out brandishing a Mr. KM.
  
  Yeah really, I just need my brother Biggie to tell me only for the gazillionth time what it is really that Information System's Auditors do, and I am in.
  
  Then he will sit there and point me to the reallly funny ones. Like, really funny, like not the ones that go "what did the accountant say to the auditor". *rolls eyes seeing as I am not one**....errrrmmm, "Your books have errors and Frauds and do not potray a true and fair view you accountant you!!". *shrug*... I dunno. Can we kiss now? Pffft.
  
  Aaand speaking of cold weddings....brrrrr, me, mine is going to be on a sunny day.
  Help me Mahatma!! but if I'm going to sell my soul to the devil(read groom), I will go down in sunny weather.
  
  I know, I know, there is more to weddings than the sun, but its just that when I was playing 'cha mama' with Alan, out wedding was always on a sunny day.
  
  And I know that means that among my wedding planners will be "Nguatah Francis" to keep me up to date with the weather patterns and all, but ah, such is a little price to pay!! because *puts on bullshit head and assumes lotus position*, 'hummmmm, the sun symbolises the warmth that the couple will have in their lives'
  
  SO, yes, if its sad and gloomy I will stroll into the church in my jammies, with y'all wrapped up in your warm scarfs and stuff and go "you know what, cheers guys for coming but we cannot fly(read wed), in this weather so, we will call you".
  Yep! then one sunny day you will be tilling the garden and get an urgent text from KM saying "KM. Wedding NOW. Come to DC's office"
  
  ALAN
  Alan was my ka boyfee. Oh Alan!. Yeah. Like all the way till Form 2.
  All we did was kiss (no tongue!!!, oh the joy of innocent youth), until one day my mother cam and said "KM, I do not want you seeing that boy again. He is Mtoro."
  Yeah, she called him that. "mtoro". I think it means a rogue.
  Why? Because she caught him smoking with his friends kwa Shoppi(shopping centre).
  Sigh! Mummy!!!
  I blame my mum for single hood me.
  
  Anyway, I was not gonna go down like that, so I refused to listen until my Dad said "KM, could you please stop seeing that boy"...and I did because I am a horrible sucker for courtesy, like I can do anything if it is asked courteously.
  (Digression 287: A habit which I have gladly passed on to my nephew and Godchild, because you ask them to do something and not use the word "Please", they will go "password? Password" *taps self on the back*).
  
  So, yeah. The letters to and fro with Alan stopped.
  Who knows? Maybe I would be tilling the shamba now and asking ngothaless KMAlanrets to come in before the porridge cools. *Sigh, I wonder where he went*
  
  
  THE EX STROKES AND THE MOHAWK
  
  After playing hide and seek with my strokes on Saturday night, where he calls, I 'miss the call' and he texts to say he is on the way, so if I have not read this text by the time he gets to my house then it will be a pleasant(yes, he used the word pleasant) surprise, which is enough to scare me into going diplomatic and lying I am not home, I am at A’s, then he says ok, let me pick you from there….ugggghhh, then I fess up that I am not up to company....
  
  I spent the night watching movies in my blankies.
  
  Gaddamn Nairobi is cold!!! Like this is the time I should be snuggling in bed with my ex-strokes.
  
  Don’t be fooled into thinking I don’t miss the man.
  
  Oh, his mind works in an amazing way, and he has the gift of ‘the cunnulingus’, the gift of sucking tits, the gift of delivering 150% on his assignments...and what I wouldn’t give to be in his arms, sniffing him and laughing with him and having him tickle me. Ok..why am not with him again?..
  
  F for Father give me strength haki to resist his taunting texts of "Dos(sic) Kamum want her titties sucked?
  
  Bless that man because he used to spend a luxurious 5 minutes on my tits, sucking and licking and nibbling until they tosheka before moving along so give the man credit because he was one of those who take their time until you are begging and crying for it.
  
  **shakes off delusion**.
  
  Cunnulingus and sucked tits does not errr... put food on the table…..(mantra to repeat once per hour)
  
  **speaking to self now**
  
  K for Kumbuka msimamo wako KM and keep yourself of pure thought because before you are 60 you will find the one who does not rush you, or ask you what you feel or tell you he does not need pressure for accountability because, you are a good girl KM despite everything, and he will be so so funny and intelligent and his strokes will be the best a 60 year old woman can ask for.
  
  (KM half runs, half skips, half gallops from left to right side of stage doing a rendition that the drama teacher showed her "Romeo, where art thou my Romeo" with hand on forehead to symbolise 'looking into horizon").
  
  So sema Ngweee Kamum, Sema ngwee.
  KM: Ngwee.
  
  **ends motivational speech to self**
  
  Anyway, it got so bad, I ended up watching a twaff twaff dush nyiao movie (Chinese action flicks), the one where the people get into the battle field, and they doing somersaults although saa hizo, **rolls eyes**, no one is bothering with them.
  
  So, in this one, there were these two guys who are enemies, and one of them, to provoke the other into action, takes the enemy’s son and gives him…get this,...a Mohawk.
  
  No really, he does not harm the boy, or hold him for ransom.
  
  Nope. He just shaved his head like Beckham was shaven in some (insert football cup).
  
  Yeah. Just that. Just the Mohawk.
  
  I was thinking maybe that is how its done in Taipei.
  
  You know how in primary school people would draw a line and go ‘pita hiyo uone”, in Taipei, just give the kid a Mohawk.
  
  I was thinking that would have been super cool if the guy gave the daughter a Mohawk…cos that woulda been funnier and more badass, a girl with a Mohawk, if they were trying to make jokes….but, yeah well, different strokes for different folks.
  
  Keep your children away from me if you know what’s good for their hair!!!
  
  AOB, WHAT PEOPLE DO AT MEETUPS
  Theeeen, I had his conversation with my girls.
  
  F: Si you guys we go somehwere next weekend
  
  KM: I'm not sure, I may have a meetup
  
  A(I dragged her to one): Again??
  
  KM: Yeah
  
  F: Meetup like for that 'other weird life you have besides us?
  
  KM: Its not weird....
  
  F: Is it members only?
  
  A: (she is the all knowing, all knocking bloggers kind): Its just weird. They sit there and call each other by funny names. Its like a swinging club or something.
  
  Yeah. Thats my friends.
  Great! They think I'm swinging now.
  They think I'm weird now.
  They think we call each other by funny names.
  
  Be safe. Glove up y'all who are laid.
  
  **KM hops back on the bilas Starlet (yeah, the train was too big and uneconomical for 'Tato and I, plus 'Tato cant drive a train so I'm having to do all the driving) cos really, she had only stopped to buy a Raymond’s blanket, but there is really no rush since she is the driver, so she can stop anytime for supplies while Tato is sleeping in the back**
• August 30, 2005
• 2:38

  The real (ahem) reason I love Rugby

   » ‎ KenyanMusings
  I am probably one of the few wierd women that love rugby. Sorry, adore! I hate football. I would never spend my 90 minutes plus watching tiny, waif men running after a round ball.....No really, I tried watch it when I had a boyfriend who lived ate and breathed football, but well, lets just say I can't share time with a round ball. Oval maybe, round...NO WAY.
  Now, my best friend does not understand wtf I see in Rugg. When we go for Kenya Safari sevens, I make time, to alternate between the Nondie matches and drinking anything alcoholic...preferably in a green bottle...aka Tusker Malt, while she, eeeh, her she is looking for a jamaa...seriously! She realy offended me the other day when over a beer and a match(which I dragged her to watch so I can tell her over and over again how HOT Tana is) , she asked if he was Chinese? For Crying out Loud Woman! He is not Chinese is he? I don't know, I always thought he was Samoan or Aborigine...you know, the forest people of NZ
  Just last month, I was watching the last All blacks/Lions ( those are mostly the ones I watch. I pledge allegiance to the fern) , the 3rd test on 9 July 2005 Auckland when All Blacks creamed the Lions again for like the gazzilionth time, 38-19 I think. He! he! Muaahhhahhha! (said with malice). Lets just say, this year, Lions have seen fish!
  I almost figured out why I love rugby besides the Three Men in All Blacks (kinda sounds like Men in Black...which they are) that deserve to be worshipped, starting with MY TANA UMAGA, Rokocoko and Richie.
  Lets talk about Tana (first name basis and all).....for a minute. I kid you not! If that guy asked me to wipe his a** everyday so I could follow him around and revel in his glory, I would leave all I hold dear and follow. He is a dish!I know he has eyebags and all but i really do find them sexy!...and with a heart (he works with kids, has won the Fair Play trophy) get over the Brian O'Driscoll spear tackle drill. accidents happen! ...I just love watch him play with his skill, muscles and passion...aiiiii woiye, I cant put it into words. The man is hot, honest and loyal.....Kwanza when he vaas a black suit and his hair is all over! Chief!. I love this man! I can bite into him.
  So Anyway, besides that Rugby is a real sport, showing men in their best natural setting... pushing themselves to the limits of their physical strength, the haka! survival for the fittest, extinction of the weakest (read Lions)....Its dangerous, its pure adrenalin, its time well spent. Ode to the Game!