We Moved!

Dear Royals, (I’d call you loyals but you are so much more than that :-))

Thank you so much for always stopping by occasionally to see how fucked up I am. It’s been a lot of fun man. So much fun that I decided to get my own home. Well, not really a home with a big leafy backyard, a nice swimming pool and a big ass house. I am actually still living with my sister, wasting her Wi-Fi and annoying the living daylights out of her with my bad habits every day. I mean my domain home. I bought Extralaudinary, which is where I have been pouring all the nonsense from my brain (in case you are wondering why it’s been morgue cold around here). Think of it this way; like I moved from my parents’ house and into my own place where I can run around naked, skip baths and sleep all day without facing the wrath of a terrible backlash.

So, please, just as you have been royal enough to subscribe to Unbroken Noodles, where you have laughed and cried with me, I beseech you to subscribe to ExtraLaudinary, because that is where the party has moved to. And if you’d like to share some of your madness there, please feel free to email me at wambilaurah@gmail.com.

Finally, ust to channel some of my Joel Osteen spirit, don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life. It is yours. Enjoy it as you deem fit.

See you on the other side!

Monday Moods and Mad Men

August 22,2016.


I have just come from lunch, where my stomach has involuntarily been subjected to burnt and undercooked ‘pilau’ and a labyrinthine mixture of french beans, carrots, peas and potatoes. It pains me to the core of my bone marrow, that I have had to pay the Mama from the land of chegets (jackets) and kuthogana, 200 shillings for that misdemeanor of a meal.


While I would like very much to sulk over the fact that that money could have bought me about ten nice (much needed) tops at Gikomba, there is already a giant pile of things fueling my Monday mood swings, so I’d rather not. I simple decide that the sun will have to turn blue before I go back there to eat.


On my way back to the office I have to cross some road, and as I do, some man that must have come straight from the devil’s ass, resolves that his life will crumble if he doesn’t exercise his asininity on me.

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Death By Bad Breathe


Why do I always get to sit next to the strangest people in public transport? If it isn’t the lady that keeps unleashing heinous farts, and then wriggling her nose like the rest of us when the pungent stench wafts through the air, threatening to pass all of us out,  it is the freak that keeps looking down my blouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of my (barely existent) cleavage. If it isn’t the nitwit that sits like he owns the vehicle, it is the blabbermouth that will be talking down his phone like he is delivering a speech at a fully-parked Yankee Stadium, without the public address system.

Why??! Is it Continue reading

Don’t Play With My Food. My Life Depends On It

Treat food like a joke and I will attack you like it's funny.

Treat food like a joke and I will attack you like it’s funny.

It is no secret that I love food. A lot. And I am very unapologetic about it. I live to eat, while most people eat to live. To me, food is more than just edibles that keep the body systems functioning, and eating is an activity that should be accorded its deserved time. You ought to savour the flavours and enjoy it. Chew through the awesomeness of it and appreciate every taste, figure out what ingredient tastes how and how everything blends in together.

Unfortunately, there are acca yakkers that just won’t let you have your meals in peace. The freaking party poopers that rain on your parade with dumb remarks and ugly stares, causing a fuss about anything and everything-where you’re eating, how you’re eating or the quantity/quality of what your eating. Dumb remarks and ugly stares that make you want to pat them on the back.

With a grilling pan.


Consequently, my patience and the I-will-let-that-slide chorea smiles have run out, so I have made a list of the things you might wanna (not) do when dining with me, or any other true foodie, matter of fact. It is all in good fun, but, in case you catch feelings, well, get diapers and chew on some pepper on your way out.

Shall we?

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