Thursday, July 27, 2006

Yaaawwwwn!

I intended to post this yesterday, but where is the inspiration?

Strap in. Its going to be a long and senseless one.

Last night was Wednesday festival. In attendance was Kamikaze, Td and myself. We drunk long and hard, oblivious to the fact the following morning is Thursday. Td reports to work at one, so it did not make a difference anyway. We would rally troops to leave the table and Td would entice us to have a last one. Never one to leave a beer that has already arrived at the table (soldier's honour), I imbibed till the lights were turned on (and they turned off in my head).
From that moment on everything is a blur.

My body obliterated the rest of the world until.....9.00 AM today morning. I woke up confused and run around my digz in circles not sure whether to go the shower, wear clothes or run straight out. Time for evasive measures. I shoot off an SMS that vaguely tells my boss that I am in a small personal jam and will be a bit late.
Next is to beat this tired body into a shape that is presentable in an office.
My breath. It can peel off dried paint. Maskirovka! I pop in half a foul smelling onion into my mouth and then I brush my teeth. I do a quick shower, which is more like stepping into the water and then stepping out. I pity the poor buggers who shared the ride with me. Into that deadly mouth mix, I added that bitter orbit chewing gum.
My eyes are cherry red. I look like a junkie showing withdrawal symptoms.I hear there is a certain cosmetic liquid used by the ladies to make their eyes white and sparkle like wine. I need just about an entire bottle of that eye drop stuff.

I forgot my sweater. It is nasty cold outside. Drizzling. Perfect weather for taking a certain nagging woman I know out for a walk (not my girlfriend. I dont have those).
My girlfriend. I have got a lot of problems with that perspective. The thought of kinda owning a walking, talking human being is disturbing. Or worse, being owned. Cause it is owning, in a way, though not like the way you would say about your television set. That is why there are territorial wars over women. And men.
Did Troy ever happen? I sometimes confuse fables with reality.

Going on leave without money is a costly mistake. I was just sitting around the house, remote control in hand. Click. Oprah. Click. Tyra. Click. Martha Stewart. Click. CCTV. Click. Cafe Caprial's. Click. How Clean Is Your Home?
All of them screaming for my attention. Garbage. Kenyan TV is full of shti. China, in a silly attempt to install itself as a cultural icon, must have given KBC miles upon miles of film reel full of crap. You see rolling landscapes of water logged rice fields, rooftops and disturbing wood carvings.
Bang. MTV Base now. Dry and tone deaf French rap artistes are waving hand, feet and metallic teeth infront of the camera. They are saying something, and though the only French words I know are 'bonjour' and 'bon appetit', this is quite something else. It sounds like someone hacking away at a murshy lump of cheese.
I flip back to Martha Stewart. The entire studio audience is pregnant and I am not kidding. Jennifer Garner (that did not just roll off the top of my head in case you are wondering), the
star of Alias, is also very pregnant and showing the rest of the admiring women how to make some inedible, exotic dish. I sympathise with her husband, having to endure that stuff and coo coo "Oh honey, this is absolutely delicious". Poor bastard.
I mute them and amuse myself watching their mouths move. I try to read a book.
It is evening. Something called Nip/Tuck is showing. It looks kind of interesting. I resist the attempt to get hooked. KTN have this habit of taking a program off the network just when its getting interesting and never bringing it back. Like NCIS. NTV too. JAG? Numb3rs? Las Vegas? The list is endless.
News. I make an effort to skip news. I like the detachment of printed news rather than politicians playing at eloquence.
KTN (them again) have made the news hour into a commercial venture. It is long and boring and they have a penchant for bringing really horrid stories. Like the one where some guys who live near Coast roast rats for dinner.
zzzzzzzzzzzz......
Oh, Joe Millionaire. Garbage. Flip to NTV. Temptation Island. What the ucfk is this? All these bogus reality shows? Take your girl/man to some distant island that lies smack in the middle of some uncharted waters. Mix with other hare-brained men and women. Purpose? See if he or she is meant for you.
The rich indeed have queer pastimes. One edition of Survivor showed some urban ladies from New York trying to stand the unforgiving sun of Samburu, wearing skin sarongs and sleeping in tents. Wuuuuuuuu....! That is supposed to create some sense of danger. Danger is exciting!! Viewers? See? See? She is courting untamed lions. The lion suspects she is an idiot and walks away unimpressed. Why don't these fellows try walking through Grogan road unaccompanied at 9.00 PM on any given day and have a real adventure?

Our Kinangop is a very interesting place. If I remember correctly, some lady MP called Wanjiru came chanting from the hills, walked into parliament holding aloft a bottle full of dark liquid. The liquid, she claimed, was a cure for AIDS. That was in 1997. Now a strange cult is saying that the world is ending on September 12. They have built nuclear bomb shelters from mud. Bush should send his military scientists. They can make a study of brainwashing.

Perhaps there is free lunch after all. Remember the guy I had mentioned in passing in an earlier post? The one who had made his girlfriend pregnant and wanted to skip? Yes. Him.
He has more than managed the feat. Recently, he brought his new girlfriend around. She is a deadly cute about 29-to-30-maximum- 33 woman. Here is the clincher. She bought us drinks till we got sodden drunk. Then she got bored with our company and wanted to get some, so she starts nudging the guy. The guy stands up, retrieves car keys from his shirt pocket and proclaims dramatically:
I have to drive her home.
Yes you guessed right. She is rich and the car is hers.
I am speechless with disbelief. The phrase 'Lucky bastard' springs to mind.

Oh, I forgot to mention. The guy has landed an international job and is leaving the country in 20 days. As for the pregnant lady, I really sympathise with her. Justice seems to have left town. Perhaps it has gone to breed a proper punishment for the inconsiderate lad which it will mete out with much more ferocity later. Time will tell.

Flashing is a bad habit. Persistent flashing is harassment. The same goes for the 'Please call me'. It shows that the flasher is not a serious person. The occasional flash can be ignored. There are those people who flash you, then immediately launch into meaningless, endless chatter. Then they wonder why people ignore their flashes. People who have important things to say buy airtime and say them. You can speak like those characters on La Femme Nikita who were never on the phone for more than 5 seconds but could communicate tons. Or just send an SMS.

I do not back up my phone numbers anywhere .....and for a good reason. I figure if I lose my phone, I will collect one or two of my buddies phones and I will have all the contacts back in. Well, almost.
The main reason is that I like to spare myself a lot of grief. On occasion you meet a lovely lady. You take her number after a nice evening of drinks and music. The following day you ping her.
Silence.
Ping number two. Silence. If on the third call I am ignored, gut instinct takes over and I delete the number. I usually regret it after some reflection, especially if the chic is hot. But the important thing is that I cannot retrieve the number. This saves me the whole charade of asking myself "Would she have answered on the fourth time?". With time she slips away from my
mind.
Then there are chics who give you dead numbers. Just a sad, robotic voice telling you the call cannot be completed when you call. I take SERIOUS offence at such treatment. Why not just come out and say "I prefer not to give you my number"? Or "my number is private"?

3 Comments:

Blogger Samborera said...

My employer requires that I take 14 consecutive days leave, to qualify for something called leave allowance. I don't understand either concept, but I dread watching talk shows full of pregrant women.

You guys are strong... To drink and work. I suffer when I don't get 8 hours sleep.

The phrase my girlfriend just can't come out of my mouth. I just can't say it. I'd be like the presenter, what's his name in Bruce Almighty when Jim Carrey is messing with him.

Haven't gotten a number in months. I usually start with an sms rather than call. And I'll only make 2 attempts without reply before doing the inevitable.

The way the weather is looking, I'll be in my bed the whole weekend [not that I am not normally], reading a book. Oracle PL/SQL Programmer's guide. Can't wait.

Friday, July 28, 2006 2:06:00 PM  
Blogger aJamaa said...

Considering the length of your post I am tempted to think that you got to work but did not work.

As for those chiks who give you number s but then dont pick up when you call or give you a dud number, there is only one way to avoid all that nonesense. Dont ask for the number. Meet a nice chik chat her up, if she wants she will ask for your number, a person who asks for you number is unlikely to lenga your calls. Kweyu has gone a level higher, he does not even ask for names anymore. Coincidentally I have not gotten a number for like 3 months I am doing really badly.

As for galfriends, what would you do if you were with some chik who gets a call from her buddies and during the conversation says 'I am chillin g with my boy friend'? Or you are at a supermarket with the same chik and you run into your workmate who is with a chik and then goes something like, 'How doing aJamaa? Meet L my fiancee' and you go 'Am sawa a dude' and this is X period. And the guy foolishly asks and X is your _ _ _ ? You look at the guy looking at you and the chik looking at you and you say something you do not meet and will probably live regret saying, 'X is my galfriend'. Both give you a satisfied look.

This reminds me of a time I was hangin out with some chik and I cant remember what she asked, but I innocently started my response with, 'If we ever go out'. I had to spend the rest of the evening answering the question, 'Kwani we are not going out?'

Friday, July 28, 2006 5:58:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

0.5 some pointers while you drink:

Buy Visine so that you can apply to your eyes the morning after, clears out the redness.

Drink water when you get home or when you are out, helps keep you dehydrated and less hang-overed.
Drinking coffee or tea- black, also helps.

Invest in some listerine, it will help keep the paint on the walls.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006 12:56:00 AM  

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