Friday, July 29, 2005


They are everywhere. Problem is, you can never tell a flasher until they do it to you.
Ama its just me. Maybe I have a sign - "This is an Idiot. Get his number, smile once, twice is the charm. Send one sms. You are in. Now, flash the guy. Pause. There you go. He will call, breathing heavily over the line, salivating like Pavlov's dog after the bell. Tell him you don't have credit. He will re-charge your number. Proceed to utilise the afore-mentioned airtime. A thank-you sms is not necessary. Repeat this as many times as you want. He is an Idiot."

I am just in so much pain right now. We will talk when I get paid. By the way, the accountant has disappeared. The boss waited around 1 hour then disappeared too. Happens every pay-day. I have like A hundred and twenty seven shillings on me. Ni taabu tu.

The rat race

I see I'm not the only doing in this rat race. It's so heartening to know that you are not the only one surviving, waiting for the pay to arrive. I now have 200 bob in my wallet.

It's been a hectic week, as have been the last 2 or so, and I'm looking forward to just laying in bed and not have to contemplate on the mountain of work that awaits me. I realised this week that complaining and moaning about stuff is useless so a guy just has to keep a stiff upper lip [I'm reminded of an episode where Dexter literally tried this]

On to more interesting things ... My favourite flasher called me the other day. What I was doing calling her back is something I am yet to understand. It was a case of the mind being willing [not to call back] but the flesh being terribly weak [and a tad excited]. I've been through this a dozen times, sworn even more times not to ever call her, but noooo.... Like a dog going back to his vomit. OK. I think that right there will strengthen my resolve.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

smile,...tomorrow will be worse

If I can live through today, and tomorrow ...........

I am sitting in the office, I am hungry and very bored. I am bored because I am reading manuals and planning white papers. Soon, I will start churning out papers much like those I am reading now. The full software development cycle. It is boring and can convert your brain to jelly.

Why am I writing this? I merely want to see if any coherent thought can proceed from my brain at this time. So, as I am saying ......what am I saying?

I miss women. Must be punishment for treating the last one like a jackass. To all who are listening! I will change, I promise! Someone flashes Samborera. The only people who flash me are the kind that want me to lend them cash. Don't be hard on yourself Samborera, there must be some solace in at least hearing her voice.

I am not smiling

Of late I have lacked any inspiration. Inspiration to blog. Inspiration to write code. Inspiration to think of anything inspiring. In short, I've been broke. Nothing has changed. I am crossing my fingers, eyes, toes, twisting hair...that tomorrow will be the day. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomor...Sorry. You should have heard me last night, Karaokeing, drinking away my last five hundred bob. Woke up with nothing. I never learn.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

I am grinning

The morning was a bit sunny, the afternoon looks a bit gloomy. That will not dampen my spirits. My martial skills will not be called for (they were nothing to write home about in the first place .....), because, my friend saw the wisdom in handing back my few hundred shillings.

A man must be happy to be pulled back from the precipice, even if it is by only an inch.

I will truly be smiling perhaps next Monday, when the tiny green screen screen displays figures that have more than two zeros. And that gentlemen, is the problem right there. During the twilight days of the month, all that is left is money of the metallic kind. All arithmetic is reduced to figures below 100 bob. Passing by Seasons, zeep, hornbill and other like places is traumatic. And then one day, Voila! That day is called end month. You revenge, for all the dry days, past and present.
I must hit the town running for the stage, lest this good feeling cheats me into a bar and I proceed to drink the meagre contents of my pocket. But wait a minute! I am off alchohol, or so the doctor tells me.

I have broken that one before. It will have to be the running.

Feels like Monday ....

Wednesday. I am back in the office, to stay. Last time I did that was last Wednesday, and no, I was not on leave. I wentdown with one of those diseases that have five consecutive consonants somewhere in the middle. The medication, always worse than the disease itself, and I had to go for seconds after the initial dose completely failed to work.

Simply put, I was in a delirium the last seven days. Worse, all the money I have in this world is Kshs 100. The 'wall' is not spitting out anything, well, until like the 31st. Which means a couple of things, first and foremost being that I can't eat; I can't report to work ......and a whole lot of undesirable circumstances. At times like these, my head does a 'global search' and it buzzes red: A colleague has my money.

I will punch holes in his face if he does not produce the cash, by evening today.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Even though I walk ...

... Through the valley of the shadow of death ...

I see nobody has posted in a while, but I have had quite a busy week, too busy to blog even. I could never keep up with fads but I was kind of hoping this would be different and my interest would last more than the initial curiosity.

I was at work througout the weekend. Yes, the whole of Saturday and Sunday came and went as I was busy churning out lines of code. OK. Truth be told, it wasn't that much code, but that's besides the point. The point is that I woke up early on a Sunday morning with the intention of going to the office to work. Now, that can't be right, or can it. We were made to work for 6 days weren't we?

So Monday comes along and I feel like it's Wednesday. To add to this mix is the fact that I've been broke and living at a dollar a day for the past week and a half. No money to drink my frustrations away. [It's probably a good thing then that I've been broke, and that I don't drink]

No distractions to talk of. [That means the only women who've called me are either my relations or have just been to an evangelistic camp - and I know I'm not good enough for her!]

The silver lining is that I've been learning, as I always enjoy doing. Learning about the 'man eat man' world that is the work place, and wondering if my type of species can survive.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

One of those days ...

It's been a tough one, and it's not over yet. The pressures of work have gotten to me today, and I'm a miserable sould typing away right now, looking for some sort of respite. By my contract, my work day ended an hour ago, but as it is in the real world, I'm still at my desk. I'm not really complaining, just looking to release some of the tension that's been in my every fibre since I walked in today.

Another deadline looms tomorrow noon. High noon? A guy can only do what a guy can do.

I've still got it

No. Its nothing to do with the females. I am saying, I've still got Speed. Okay, you would too if you were about 10 metres away from a stampeding mob, about to flatten you. All it takes is one fool to start running. Then all hell breaks loose.

The scene, Tom Mboya avenue, near Baroda bank. Time, going to 5 in the evening. Everyone is in a rush to get out of the city, there is beef. This Kamikaze is on his way to a class, wants to grab a number 14 and head to strathmore. Taking circuitous route, got to get to class, got to get to class.

Turn the corner and come to a halt. Everyone seems to be craning their necks, looking at what? I didnt want to know. Cars are turning round and going the other way, so I do the same, cause I figure that today, can't get to class, can't get to class. Walk about 10 metres back, then the shit hits the fan. Turn round and there is like a thousand guys coming in my direction. This is no rugby pitch, and besides, I can't tackle all these guys, so I take flight.

I've still got it. In no time at all, I was at my regular hang-out, cool as a cucumber, on my first of many cold drinks. I've still got it.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Ohhh that feeling

That heady feeling. Oooh. But only if I had Timo's will power, courage, umph, call it what you want. Me? I was floored. 3 weeks ago, maybe four. I've been in a daze. All I think about. All my airtime goes one way. I degrade myself consistently, falling all over her words and looks, everything she says. My mind screams "Get Out!!!" - "Now!!!". But have I ever listened? No. Now, broker than Arsenal (we can't buy, even after selling our captain!!!), I am a broken man, forlon, pushed to the side, without a single word of affection having being offered (by the other party, I stated mine severally). I need help, NO, don't give me your sympathy. Should have known better. When everyone in the club is staring at only one person (not me, her), there is bound to be problems. I also need money. That you can give me.


I have done enough pursuing to last me a while. I won't start ranting here about all my experiences in this regard. Bottom line is these days, I'll probably call up a chic twice. If there's no favourable response, ... delete the number and move on.

Of course, I have only 2 chics in my phonebook right now who I'm not related to, so this path is not for the faint-hearted.

who listens?

What I keep telling people, although no one listens, is that a man needs to approach the issue of darting a woman the same way you would when doing a financial investment. Which means that if you don't know how to do some bit of business, at least in theory, then my whole argument will be lost on you.

Hang on.

A good woman (read beautiful, I dont give much thought to morals at this stage in life) is like a high risk, high return investment. The converse is true. Now, before you throw your hat down and get into the ring, you need to ask yourself this question: Do I have the capital? Whatever the answer, you could just proceed. But, if there are no returns (Return On Investment?) after a designated period of time (which for me means panties hitting the floor - why lie?), cut your losses, cut her loose and look for another venture. Can't throw resources down a bottomless pit now, can I?. Nothing personal, just business.

Saves your ass from being wrung dry. I get tired real quick when a chase starts spanning over 4 weeks ......

If you hit a blue chip, you might want to hang on to her. Disengage the head and bring on the heart (what am I saying?).

Monday, July 18, 2005

What feeling?

I'm not sure what feeling 0.5 is talking about, but if it's the sort that crack heads suffer, I'm sure we're talking about different feelings.

I had an encounter all right. [Oh why have you caused me to refresh these emotions that have been quietly washed away by hours of sleep] As I said in my last post, when my heart was pouring out the pain and anguish it had suffered earlier, I watched her dance, shared drinks, and left, each of us going our separate ways. I'm most likely a drunken memory in her mind, and will soon be banished completely from the movie that is her life.

I have no choice but to accept this fate, and move on. I had ... until just now.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

This heady feeling ....

I know this feeling. It will kill you quicker than a cocaine addiction.

There is a lot more to blackness or a void if you like, than mere absense of light. There is a lot more that passed in that encounter than Samborera is letting on. What are you not telling us?


Actually Vanessa was her name, but both words bring out the essence in her. I speak in past tense because this was one of those events that happen and likely won't ever happen again. You wouldn't want it to happen again because the anticipation itself may kill you.

Yes. The proverbial femme fatale. Not extraordinarily gorgeous, No. It's more the was she moves and the energy she displays. I can't remember the number of times I said "Oh my goodness!" last night. I was transfixed, like a dog waiting to go after a stick when playing 'fetch'. My jaw was wide open all the time my eyes were on her, and I didn't care. It was clearly evident that I wasn't the only one experiencing some pretty intense sensations, although I struggled, really struggled, not to walk right up to her and declare something. I wasn't sure what.

The vultures circled, the hunters went in for the kill, but there is something about someone who knows they are sexy. They are not moved by the attempts to impress by the masses that seek after them. The pain of knowing that you are one of those in the masses, in a futile attempt to stand out, to be picked out, is excrutiating. Knowing that the more forward your attempts at impressing are, the less likely they are to succeed. Like a flailing figure in a sea of great whites, you are almost certainly doomed to failure.

You need to muster up all the energy you can, use all the medidation and calming techniques you've tried out, to stay still. I stood transfixed, hand over mouth, eyes wide open, stunned. I followed her every move. Every sensual move. From this corner to the next, I followed, bringing out the potential stalker in me.

She seemed to have male company. Exclusive male company. The thought of being beaten down by some green eyed man helped me to stay put. But you all know where this is headed. Like a lorry that had lost its breaks I was headed in only one direction, albeit in a winding manner, trying to avoid the inevitable destination.

I stepped up, leaned in. "You are the most sexy person I've seen in a week", or some ridiculous thing like that came rushing from my mouth. That's as much as my now confused mind could conjure up. So I ended up repeating this phrase over and over. Yes. My mind was in an endless loop and I was powerless to stop it.

There's something about the pursuit, as opposed to the capture, that is uniquely intriguing, and once this intrigue is lost by achieving your goal, no matter how exciting the goal is, the fires that had been burning die down, and you suddenly come back to reality. I had achieved my objective and moved away to avoid being labelled 'retarded' for saying the same thing over and over and over again.

Behold! The ploy works. The effort pays off. Eyes meet and the gaze is held. That is more than the other suitors in this plot have got. Experience has taught me that that is good enough for a foundation on which to build bigger things, so I smile. Yes. That smile. Like a moth to a flame, I'm draw back. I am powerless, a zombie who heeds her every request.

This story ends like most others in my life. "What if?". The difference now is that I know the answer to that question and can move on a tad quicker than before. No phone calls, dates or any of that sort of thing will follow. Once upon a time I would be restless until these events occurred. Not any more.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Miserable Friday

14 hours. 14 hours chasing one bug. One bug which shows up then disappears. Its like trying to pin down smoke.

4 hours. 4 hours to go. Go home. Because there is no money. I have with me, a miserable two hundred shillings. When it comes to drinking, 200/= just does not wash.
You hit town running. Running straight to the stage, because hanging around will just traumatise you.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Damn its cold

Its so cold, things are shrinking to unthinkable sizes. Nuff said. Its so cold, at night, I can send messages just by breathing (smoke signals?).
It is so cold I could pay for it right now.
I've swallowed all the anti-biotics I can buy, even my boss gave me some, the way I was snivelling all over the place, lakini as soon as I breathe any sort of night air, back to square one. Okay, the beer I took, which kept me out till night time probably doesn't help. No, wait, I am so sure it helps, except I can't prove it.
It is so cold, I think I am not thinking, hence this whole posting sounds real silly, but I have to keep warm, and typing is activity (the most action I am getting at the moment by the way).
Now I have exhausted my "It is so cold" thoughts. Let me think.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


I won't even start bashing Admins of any sort, so this is not that kind of post. I think someboy said "Different strokes for different folks". That conjures up some really hot, scandalous imagery for those of us who live in the gutter, but it's principle holds true, irrespective of the context to which it's applied. [I still have a movie going on in my head with lots of girations so I think I'll stop here and say this. Some of us like pain; so we write code for a living]. Having said that, I wouldn't want to be any sort of Admin when Exchange servers die, mail gets lost or some other similar crisis shows up, as it will [good ol Murphy's law]

If you can get to do stuff that you enjoy and get paid for it, you need to do a serious Macarena when you get to work [The only reason I don't is that I don't want to be shipped off to the looney bin so sometimes I try to act 'normal'. Normal is boring]

So do your thing, whatever it is. Want to do MCSE, MCSD, MCSC, MCSB or MCSA? Go right ahead.

deadlines, how about switching .....

I have been thinking. These group of people who call themselves System Admins, or Network Admins, they do not have deadlines. All they do is sit, and download the occassional Cisco manual. I am not saying that the job is easy, no, all I am saying, there are usually no deadlines in this area.
TheTCP/IP stack, has remained pretty much the same. Networking does not go through revolutions as much as programming.

There is now SQL Server 2005. It comes loaded with a whole lot of stuff that I am happy at present not to know. But I am kidding myself. An upgrade is in the pipeline, and I will be required to know the stuff. Worse, someone might force me to class to learn it.
.NET 2005 Beta is out before I got to master the 2000 one.

I might just do an MCSE or Cisco and see where that leads.


I've had a couple of revelations about deadlines this past couple of weeks. [Most have been quite sobering, especially for a laid back person like myself] What would life be like without these suttle and sometimes not so suttle lessons. Pretty boring methinks.

Wednesday has finally dawned on us, and you know what that means ... The week is over. It's all downhill from here.

I haven't contacted one Mzee Otuda, and I think I should do that as soon as someone sambaza's me.

It's evident I have no profound thoughts at the moment, so I'll check in later.


Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Blog it now, regret it later?

Are you intending to run for President some time in the future?

Clouds loaded with gold ...

8.30 AM. I have been standing at the stage for 45 minutes straight. Not one matatu. I go the full cycle, from mad to angry to resigned.
One that surely must have seen better times comes along. I must scram to get into the rickety 20 year old thing. I am in a testy mood. Can't get worse than this, can it?
We ride for about 200 metres, and a guy alights. A chic of about 22 enters.
2 blouse buttons are open.
As she stoops to avoid the roof of the mathree, I have a full view of chocolaty coloured breasts, for a breathtaking 15 secs.
Feels like a full litre of adrenaline has been pumped into my blood. I am still grinning two hours later.
These are some of the things that have no two sides, are great to remember. There can be no evil in a woman (young) showing off her boobies.
Things are looking dandy today.

Tuesday Blues

I must have stuck my mouth into something very nasty. I got the dedliest infection on friday evening. My throat was on fire and my repeated attempts at extinguishing the blaze with (first cold, then warm) white-caps, proved utterly futile. Hence, I retired early on saturday evening, defeated, not to leave the house until this morning. Yes, tuesday morning. I could not even talk my way through my reason for not going to work so I sent an sms. And warned them that I had lost my voice, so don't call, I wont be able to speak. I have to use that one again! As a lie next time.
Well, now I have the Tuesday blues, but its nothing really.
Now to face my boss, yup thats him pulling into the driveway. And I thought the guy would be away for a week, he came back yesterday, straight to the office, as I slept my throat infection away. Wait...Aaah, it was nothing, he asks about my state, I am much better thank you, winks and goes away. If only he could pay me more, I would sing him praises each morning. Thazzall.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Coldplay marathon,....

Its 4.32 PM. Monday is almost over. The only consoling thing is that comedy, My Family on Nation. Yesterday I downloaded quite a few tracks (against rules of course), over the open net. The speeds are amazing (averaging 40 KB per sec). Problem is there is not much variety over open sites, but there is no free lunch.
About 7 coldplay tracks and a few others is something worth writing home about.

Folks, this one will pass just like the rest.

Who has heard from Cliff?

Feels like Wednesday

This morning was a bit tough. It feels like I've been toiling for a couple of days already. Irony is, I spent most of the weekend in bed. That's probably why I was awake today morning, at 2:45 am that is.

It's amazing, 0.5, how some people think that making a program work is like firing up MS Word and typing some stuff in there, and voila! The responses I've got from non-techies range from ridiculously funny [can the program make me coffee type requests], to the utterly annoying [can this run faster [it's taking one second to process. As if they'd notice if it took 800 ms].

Forgive them, for they know not what they are saying.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

And Suddenly Its Monday ....

It is Sunday 5.00 PM. I am in the office, my new week has already begun. Just as well, Sunday has never been an interesting day. Half the time I am sulking that it is Monday tomorrow, and that yesterday (Saturday) was way too short.
I am in the thick of a hot political battle. The old manager-footsoldier skirmishes. I have a deadline that refuses to move, and that thing of hiding below the desk does not work. You see some people walk into a room and you stop breathing, close your eyes in the belief that if you are not seeing them, they are not seeing you.
Never works.
If they ask: "Are we ready?" You better say we are, regardless of whether you have just written the 5th line of code. Notice the use of "we". You would think a #$@# helped you write code. Pray a guy does not ask, "Can I see where we are?" because if he does, the best you can do is faint.
How about starting your morning like: "Hi, you will be presenting the system at 8.30 AM to me and a couple of managers in the meeting room". You are receiving this news at 8.15 AM, and there is almost no system to present.
And the way they ask "Can you remove this and that, plus you could add abcd blah, blah ...". In a most cavalier fashion, without a care in the world. Its like its as simple as standing in the toilet and passing urine.
Aaaaarrrggggghhhhhhh ...............Very annoying. Very very annoying.
But I am grateful. I have a job, other people wish they had.

Friday, July 08, 2005

The week that was

Did somebody say Friday? It amazes me how fast time flies. I've always held that today, time moves faster than earlier years. I spent a lifetime in primary school, more like an eternity, but today ... we are already halfway through this year.

So after a nightmarish start to the week, things are definitely looking up. Since I left the work of imbibing to more able persons, hangovers, at least of the barley kind, are a thing of the past.

I will be doing the late night thing tonight. The absolute best time to work, or surf, is Friday evening after everyone has rushed home. The peace and tranquility that is the Friday night is absolute bliss. No 'Please come here'. No 'when will this be ready?'. Just you and couple of other late night freaks bobbing their heads some mix of music some old school DJ put together. Aaaah.


You damn right. Friday is upon us again. And like someone else on this blog, I was also imbibing yesterday, but I don't feel any worse for it. Reason? Here is a clue. Guess whos boss is out of town. Okay, guess who slept till 9.00 am. Thats right. Which means, I can hit the bottle again today. Might not even show up kesho, who knows. Where will any of you peeps be? Seasons?

Friday ....

Its Friday,...I have a terrible hangover. Went drinking last night against my own wise counsel.
Isn't that nice?
Some obscenely tall chic is standing next to me, depriving me of my music!

They are putting something in that Tusker. Beer at Hornbill bado ni 80 bob.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

No maandazi

Now my concept of cooking became broadened today. The phrase 'bun in the oven' [to mean someone who is with child, or otherwise pregrant] has now been localised [Kenyanised] to 'maandazi' [maandazi can loosely be translated to 'bun'].
Anyhow, cooking [making maandazi] has been on my mind. I won't be wearing a 'Kiss the Chef' apron anytime soon but the realisation that life is whizzing by and people are busy in the kitchen that is the bedroom.
And for all of you who were wondering ... There's no sex in heaven [unless of course you are of the Muslim persuasion]
Even attempting to understand women is like a flailing figure trying to go against a Tsunami. Just go with the flow, and when you meet a psycho, swim for your life!
BUT. And this is a big one, what does a guy do when the women folk parade themselves in the skimpiest and tightest outfits they can breathe through? Run away? I don't think so.

Why I will not be cooking anything soon ....

You are only in your twenties once. Use it. I sit back and remember all the women who show you madharau, then perhaps you meet one who is crazy and wants to marry you ASAP. Why? Because there are not enough men to go around, and she wants to grab hers before the others have woken up.
Watch out, fellas. If a woman is getting too cosy, she has extrapolated to the year 2050 (or did you think you look too good?). She wants you in the can. I have stopped trying to rationalize why a woman would be interested in me. The factors and complexities involved would make Einstein's theory of relativity seem like child's play.
Sometimes, I think I am ignorant and chauvinistic. But I dare anyone to believe in that love crap and you see what will happen. You will look like you have been bled dry.

So, the long and short of this is:
Have fun, don't rush to commit, don't let a woman sumbua you. There is always an option, its called the high road.

Kids and a wife will come. Oh yes. And you will either be very happy or miserable. This stuff makes my blood chill.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Sun is shining ...

It's a beautiful day ...
Even though I'm in what feels like a concrete oven, my spirits are up. Nothing extraordinary happened to result in my present emotional state. No intoxicating woman or drink. Just surviving today without getting fired has been good enough.


0.5, you give yourself away too easily. The guy attending meetings with old farts? Dead giveaway. Yes this thing is difficult to use. This Friday? This Sato? Get me the game so I can kill some pedestrians. Has anyone seen a worse day than Monday? I am so happy it is Tuesday, even the sun is smiling. Now if only they could serve beer at work, wouldn't that be something.


This Blog service, is actually not easy to use .....
I had figured it out yesterday, but then today, I had forgotten again and had to click around all manner of links.
Getting old I think.
One indicator is that I am attending too many meetings with old farts with ties, doing too much MS Word.

Kamikaze wants to know who 0.5 is? Not going to happen (At least not on this blog). But if Kamikaze wants the game, Seasons, Kimathi St., any Saturday (or Friday jioni).

Monday, July 04, 2005

No longer introverted

I finally get to post, after the web stuttering to this page. It's been a bit of a down day, deadlines coming and going with me trying to chase at them like a man running after the wind. At the end of the day, things aren't looking as dim as I'd envisioned earlier in the day, at about 7 am.

Disclaimer: I shall not be obligated to answer to any queries pertaining to my posts on this or any other Blog.

Live, Criminally.

I have a game, probably have a heard about it. Its called Grand Theft Auto

There is a head mafia honcho who dishes out missions.'Tis based in a huge metropolis, nice scenery.

The missions are noble activities such as:
1. Stealing
2. Killing cops and people
3. Picking up whores
4. Stopping (and starting) brawls.

Nuff said. Holla back if you want a copy. Charges? A blank CD (not the rubbery kind) will do