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

EASTER.The Death Of Christ…And Of Honesty Too


I walked into a KFC in town on Good Friday,expecting to have the time of my life slurping on their to-die for ice cream. Seriously, their ice cream is out of this world. Isn’t any ice cream? They say you can’t buy happiness but you can buy ice cream and that’s pretty much the same thing 🙂 Anyway,fuck the ice cream today. What, or rather, who i ran into was ten thousand times better.

I was going up the entry stairs, taste buds tingly and all, and the first face i saw was of this guy who a couple of days ago had professed his undying, unwavering, undiluted and totally unshakable love for me, typical The Notebook style. He actually spent an hour’s worth airtime (and wasted a whole hour of my very busy life. An hour equals an episode of Empire plus breaks to snack and to go pee.Yes people. I have found a new series to spoil my eyes with and waste my life on. Only because the latest episode of Scandal is yet to be released.) passionately explaining to me how his life would disintegrate World War Z style if I rejected his relationship proposal.

Seeing as i had just realized that the guy I thought I had a serious thing with, was an idiotic scheming selfish imbecile of a tick, who only wanted me for tiny little errands that he had no time to do or was simply to proud to do, I had told dear Romeo that I just wasn’t ready to date, not just him, but any testosterone-bearing human.

The guy then went on a promising spree, swearing almost on the existence of the sun and the entire Milky Way that he didn’t care, and that he was in no rush to settle because I was the only one he wanted. Said he’d wait for me, and the only thing that would deter his wait would be the return of Jesus himself, and even then, he said he would hold my hand and walk through the Pearly gates of Heaven, or into the fiery furnace of hell, all depending on the way we had played out our lives. My efforts to tell him that it wasn’t necessary that he does so, were met with a grandeur speech, inclusive of statements like “I’ll wait for you Laura, I promise.” and “I ALWAYS keep my word” and “Please trust me.” LOL. Dude would have given Lupita a run for her Oscar.

Long story short, he was seated with some girl right at the table by the stairs, sipping his Krushers and fiddling playfully with her hair. He was also looking deep into her eyes, probably telling her that he does not need to look at the sky at night because the beautiful stars are right there in her eyes. Talking of eyes, mine and his met for a split second before I looked away and burst into a series of fits of laughter, almost tripping on the last stair.

Oh men. Most are all the same. All mouth and trousers and sometimes, not even trousers.

Class Of Classes

All Under One Roof
The lecturer is running late, again. It is freaking hot, God this February heat. I had quite the heavy lunch just before I dragged my overfed self to class. Couple that up with an atmosphere of sweaty armpits, cheap colognes and body lotions, and you have the perfect cocktail for an afternoon nap. I am seated next to a Mr. Somebody-or-other, who is trying his utter best to chat me up as if his unit’s grade depends on it. Ordinarily, I’d involve myself in the chit-chat, as I would rather be admired for my scintillating conversation prowess and sparkling personality, than my canine ability to fall asleep in such a public place. However, the guy has onion breathe. Vibe killer right there. So as he goes yadda yadda yadda about something obviously extremely boring, I give an absent minded smile as I look around the class.
There is quite the interesting collage of personalities in this class. So whilst my wet-behind-the-ear neighbor is falling over himself giving his ‘wise’ opinion on why Aromat is the best thing to ever happen to the world of cookery, I do a little person evaluation. Judgment is too harsh a word.
1. The class diva/ Queen Bee
Always has the latest of trends in fashion. Her make-up is flawless and she moves around with an aura of femininity and perfection. Guys stare and drool when she passes by and leaves a trail of designer perfume behind, for them to revel in, probably even have some wet dreams with,in some cases.
2. The in-love couple
Our very own Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, minus the football team of kids and the private Island of course. They look so great together, they make Beyoncé and Jay Z look like amateurs in this love business. They are the type that make you watch The Notebook for the gazillionth time, and wonder why all the men you keep meeting have to be jackasses who spoil you rotten one day, only to be on a frugality drive the next. Or why they have to have onion breathe. Sigh.
3. The Wannabe
Thinks she is the yet-to-be-discovered Katy Perry. She tries to live, act and dress the part, but she tries too hard. One fashion paux after another, she never really gets it right- too much eye liner, a dress a tad too revealing, lipstick that makes her look as though she’s been on a fourteen-hour spree drinking red wine, which has congealed and solidified on her mouth. Attempting to smile, she looks like Dracula.
4. The drunk
Always high on something; booze, weed, shisha…whatever substance that is ingestible and can be abused. He slurs in his speech, never makes complete sentences and smiles like the world is his oyster.
5. The out-of-this-earth one
Believes smurfs are real, and that aliens are watching our every move, waiting for the appropriate time to make an invasion and conquer the world. He is always daydreaming, has his keys tied around his neck and is always whispering to himself.
6. Miss Goody two shoes
Such a pain in the butt this one. Does she always have to remind the lecturer about an assignment or a presentation due? They say her transcript has never felt the taste of a B. Ever. She’s all about those As man.
7. The copying machines
They never complete assignments on their own, and their mantra is ‘I’d rather cheat than repeat’.
8. Back of the class crew
Very loud. Annoying sometimes. They make witty remarks almost about everything that happens in class. Never make notes because they are always busy whispering about one thing or the next.
9. The Heaven-bound
These ones apparently have their tickets to heaven booked and confirmed. They look at you enter class in your not-so-Godly outfit, then shake their heads, like you are the devil’s associate herself. They stick to themselves, lest you contaminate them with your evil mind and ways.
I was saving the best for last. He is my favourite part of class. Darn he’s cute. And his smile, good Lord that smile. Like a buttery sunshine, melting my insides, turning me into a wobbly gooey mix of something between childishness and being a speechless clumsy complete mess of an idiot. He has this deep goofy laugh, and an urbane confidence that renders him utterly charismatic. He probably doesn’t even know I exist and if does, he probably thinks I’m a total nutcase, someone he’d rather eat goat poop than be seen hanging out with. Sigh. Still, a girl is allowed to dream, isn’t she?
Well, it seems Mr. Onion breathe has finally gotten the gist that I don’t give two horses whether he prepares whale for dinner or eats zebra hooves because he has turned around to make small talk with the other girl next to him, who obviously doesn’t mind his breathe because she’s giving him the ‘If you keep going we could get it on, tonight maybe.’
Jeez, I really should have taken that nap when I had the chance.