Tuesday, December 30, 2008

false starts of 2008

2008 has not been without it's share of new chics, new level of craze.
But above all, when all is said and DONE, i learnt a few things along the way:
I have learnt that you can hype up your dic* for action only to realize you are about to katia someone's mother. Time wasted. poor judgement. Lethal possibilities.
I learnt that some chic you misjudged to be hor*y could be a religion extremist only interested in inviting you to a prayer kesha, or just boring stuff to fill up my nice weekends. Why bother?
I have learnt that there is nothing extremely sweet about doing older mamas.
i have also learnt that some chics can totally screw you . They may be few but they are out there.

Anyway as they say. you were given some 2 organs, the brain and the dic* and only enough blood to run in either.

Sunday, December 28, 2008


We seem to be living in a now society. Everything is needed urgently. ASAP. Now.

I'm obviously not too thrilled about this kind of thing. Not surprising considering my epic propensity for procrastination. And I'm not too sure life lived at consistently high speed is a good thing. I actually think we're worse off. Living lower quality lives, in some ways at least, than our predecessors. Everyone is stressed and irritated and fatigued and frustrated. No wonder you don't see "Hakuna matata" too much anymore. Too many matatas more like. "No hurry in Africa" is so '80s. Although the bone doctor assures me the guys in Kampala are still holding firmly onto this motto. I should really visit the place.

I always was a patient guy. Never hyper or anything. Did most things quite slowly. Come to think of it, the term lazy was often used in certain circles. Perhaps that's the real explanation. I do envy guys who can do stuff chap chap. Like this guy at the office who could churn out an exe in an hour. With functionality and a beautiful interface and everything. I on the other hand would spend days thinking about it all, days drawing stuff up in an exercise book, still more typing up the code, and a couple of weeks down the road you would have an exe. Only uglier. If I had that kind of productivity. If I had a mind that works at that kind of speed... Well, I don't. So I became more philosophical. When a guy tells me to come back after one week, I don't hassle the guy or demand a sooner date. I know I could be that guy. If it'll take a week to sort out so be it. I'd better find other things to occupy my mind in the meantime. And if he is in a situation like I was in, he probably has enough guys breathing down his neck already about getting this thing or the other done today. He doesn't need me adding to that.

So when I'm stuck in traffic, I meditate. Not out of frustration. There's quiet time right there. It'd probably be very different if I had a car. I'd probably go completely insane in that instance. But the idea is to generally take it easy. No need to get too worked up by the queue. Or get into too much of a frenzy doing this and the other. It's not too healthy I don't think. And it likely won't be the end of the world if it doesn't happen right now.

Friday, December 26, 2008

How'd they do it

I've caught glimpses of some local soaps on the telly. Well. I'm not sure soap is the right term to use because there are no Mexicans, and the actors' lip movement and sounds you hear actually seem to match.

Those set in high schools particularly intrigued me. Partly as they provide some insight into the psyche of young people these days. But like most things it got me wondering. How did guys who went to high school in day schools manage. It was my first career decision I guess, selecting which schools to potentially go to on finishing primo. Had to select one national school. There weren't too many choices here. Not for me anyway. Knowledge of the school my dad had attended wasn't a contributing factor. Not consciously anyway. I just didn't like the others. Didn't know anything tangible about them so it wasn't some rational pros and cons thing. Then came the provincial schools. This was a bit tougher. Well. Not tough really but I had to apply some logic to this one. I didn't want to go to a day school. The commute to and from school had been a source of significant trauma throughout primo. I didn't want more of that. I figured that boarding life was too punitive for primo but I should be able to survive OK in high school. And I wasn't sure I'd survive high school if I was home all the time. Too many distractions, surely. My grades would likely not be too good and that wouldn't be a good thing for campus and beyond. So I went through the list of schools. There was only one boarding school for boys in the province. Not much choice there then. Had to select one more. At least one anyway. But I figured if I'd not gotten enough marks to go to any of the choices I'd made already, I was pretty much sunk and it wouldn't really matter where I went. So the third choice was more about name recognition. Luckily I got into my first choice. And from what I heard the mark I got was the cut off point. So I got in by the skin of my teeth. One mark less and my life would likely be unrecognizably different right now.

The other thing that intrigued me was how people survived in mixed schools. I mean. That would be just too much drama. I'm trying to imagine that commotion that preceded funkies. On a daily basis. My hat goes off to those who pull it off. We had a couple of significantly older female teachers to lust after but that was about it. Occasionally there were those [young] teaching practice types. Can't remember any of them teaching our class actually. I wonder if they were any good. Good at teaching that is. They certainly were good to look at. And chat to and whatnot for those who were brave enough. Whichever the case, they certainly were a source of preoccupation. When I extrapolate that to a co-ed situation, I'm not sure how guys get or retain any of that academic stuff that teachers go on about. Perhaps you get used to it and don't spend the entire 4 years trying to get with the next chic. I of course went to a boys school, ended up in a campus class with virtually all guys and onto a profession where majority of colleagues are male. So I didn't have the pleasure of getting used.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

These shoes weren't made for walking

Women never cease to amaze me. Perhaps they really are from another planet. They might as well be. After all, things I consider reasonable appear totally alien to them. Why for instance would one totter around on incredibly thin, high heels. I appreciate the fact that heels make chics more attractive, for some strange reason. But when it's a health hazard, it surely isn't worth it. I value comfort much more than fashion. I may not have a gaggle of gals around me as a result but that's the kind of price I'm prepared to pay. I'm in T-shirt, jeans and sneakers because I find them comfortable. There's no better feeling than comfort. The only time I'll not be wearing these is when there's some binding law that dictates something to the contrary. Like those contracts you sign when you get a job. Otherwise, it's how I always dressed, to church, weddings, funerals, everything.

But this isn't about me. This is about that chic walking ahead of you who would instantly snap her ankle if she were to step on a pebble or something. I thought this kind of footwear was for limited durations, not walking about town. Or going out dancing. How do they do it. I see it but I still don't know how. And I'm not sure they have to do that kind of thing. The difference with the guys wouldn't be that much I don't think with one inch less heel. Not with me anyway. And you can always compensate. Plunging neck lines come to mind. Either way I get the impression sometimes that chics go through all manner of hoops that the guys would not really fuss about. Whatever it is will often be a [much appreciated] bonus but not a necessity. Perhaps it's just me trying to be all logical and stuff. Perhaps they don't feel the cold when it's freezing out and they're showing a bunch of skin. Perhaps they don't endure any pain in those size zero outfits. Perhaps those shoes were made for walking.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

When there's a fire

You're more likely to be killed by a stampede.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

T minus 1

Thirty minus one. Today.

I've not been one who makes goals. Never had a list of things to do before twenty five. Or Thirty. Or Thirty five. Or some other random age. Which is a good thing. Because I would most likely be in a panic now. Would probably have a tonne of things unaccomplished, with time rapidly running out within which to accomplish them.

I've been in pretty hyper-introspective mood the past three months. 29 years is a lot to mull over. Hopefully it's served it's purpose, and I'll be better off.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Why don't you ...?

I was proposed to. On Thursday evening, 11 Dec 2008.

Friday, December 12, 2008

I am decrapping

Ambition can be easily frustrated, easily scattered. why even try? this is a question i got to ask myself last week.
Last week mid morning. i am attending an interview. I walk into a room with 1 IT geek, 2 IT clueless guys and a HR chic. Mission- trying to get hired.
No beating around the bush.
The geek goes for my neck on minute one. Not literary, but with rapid fire questions that make you look like a fool.
I mean seriously, you have already proved i know no shit, why harass me in front of everybody. it's like cutting off the neck of Santa Claus in front of kids on a Christmas morning.

And that phrase " without missing details" is a deliberate thing to make you look like a sales guy attending an IT interview.
The geek kept on saying "Remember you are talking to IT guys here. so mention all the technical details including table names, interfaces, processes.
anyway Mr. Geek, you got me there. Honestly. made me look like a fool or a career conman.
All the stories i had practiced looked meaningless, totally devoid of any place in this techy butchering.
Now i have to forget all that crap i had practiced, all that hullabaloo about what i have done and my future plans. wawawawa llaalalalalaa!
i have to decrap. getting rid of all that interview bullsh** from my head.
i am decrapping guys. For once they got me there.


I put away the VCR the other day. We obviously aren't much of movie watchers. It had accumulated a fair amount of dust. As I sat there looking at it, I wondered how much power it had needlessly consumed over the years. This was my overwhelming thought. All this green business must be going to my head. It was somewhat of a nostalgic sight. I'm pretty certain it hadn't been used in 5 years at least. It pretty much just lay there. Nobody used it but nobody touched it. If it ain't broke.

I felt pretty embarrassed actually, putting it away. This must be the last living room with one of these. I did acquire a DVD player at some point in the recent past. Can't remember when exactly but it seems it was in the course of this year. Sometime after February. Mainly out of that sense of embarrassment. Everyone has one, so I'll get one. So that I can fit into conversations that have "my DVD player..." somewhere in them. In the time since I bought it, I've probably watched 3 DVDs or VCDs on the thing. It's gathered it's fair amount of dust too. I lost interest in movies quite a while back now and I never caught that series bug that was going around. The few movies that I did watch, I went to the big screen to see. And even then, they weren't always all that. You walk out of a screening of Wanted and wonder to yourself what kind of nonsense that was.

Anyway. There seemed to be a trend. There's this one Saturday evening I showed up at the office. We were coming in for an all-nighter. If a guy ever mentions power upgrade and more specifically anything that sounds like "complete power shutdown", curse him, then go ahead to put on sackcloth, cover yourself in ash and start to repent. There was this time on TV some guys were wearing gunias. Literal sackcloth. Found it quite funny. That's the kind of thing you need to be doing. Anything to get it postponed or better still forgotten all together. Because it means servers have to be shut down and systems stopped. And this can only be done at an hour when night runners are meant to be doing their thing. Nairobi doesn't ever completely go to sleep these days actually, but it had to be done. So I leave the house all prepared for a long night ahead. Wasn't sure why I was going. Anyone can click on Start | Shutdown. But hey. The boss said. I've just had supper so I'm good for food, have some warm garments on and a walkman. All set. Get to the office and we're basically a bunch of guys sitting around doing nothing. Waiting around for the magic hour. Then the laughing starts. Took a while to figure out that guys were laughing at me rather than with me. They couldn't believe that I owned a walkman, or would willingly be seen in public with such an [apparently] ancient device. Guys are sporting PSPs and here I am. The guy from the '90s. I don't understand what they are going on about. I wear the thing all the time in the house. Listening to radio. It works. Buy batteries every so often and that's pretty much it. Never considered buying an iPod. Nano or not. I had playlists on the computer. Like 5 of them. Don't need to be listening to playlists all the time. I like hearing different songs. Songs in different order. And turning on shuffle just doesn't do it. So I have no reason to discard my walkie. It serves my needs. I actually think it's rather nice. I like it. Why change. Surely not for the sake of it.

There's a wider concern though. That of turning into one's parents. Probably too late for me. There was this evening I turned off the telly. Sat there in silence reading a paper I think. My mum was rather concerned when she walked in. "Nothing interesting on telly", I declare. Or useful. Didn't believe what had happened myself. I'd just turned into my folks. Right there. That thing that you swear when you are much younger, and ignorant I can now add, that would never happen. My sis was mentioning yesterday how sijui the gal next door was telling some other neighbour sijui what. On Facebook. And sijui she got mad because he said sijui what. I don't follow gossip too well. Am I the only one without a Facebook account. Apparently even moms are on there and stuff. Wacha hiyo. I only heard of Twitter last month. And only because I was watching TV [US election news] all of my waking hours. Should he or shouldn't he tweet. Still not sure what the idea is. I might as well be 70.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


Long, long ago, there was this phenomenon. The phenomenon of the pointie. Sought after like <insert simile of choice here>. I didn't understand it. Mostly because I wasn't anywhere near puberty I think. Because it was all about attraction. Guys who were half-cast were apparently really hot. I think it was the light brown skin. Or the hair, that wasn't like steelwool. Like it was for the rest of us.

There were one or two in my neighbourhood. And when I say sought after, that isn't even a figure of speech. Walikuwa wanatafutwa. Everyone wanted to impress. We got recruited, kids who knew no better, in some really odd schemes to make these people accessible. Things people do for love. Some didn't even have mzungu blood. Taitas mostly I think. The light-skinned effect was the same.

Since I started liking women, I've always preferred them darker. Not any kind of subliminal reaction as a result of my childhood. I don't think. A guy just likes what he does. No rational explanation of why. I always figured I was in the minority. All the talk of yellow-yellows and how they were every man's fancy. Or fantasy, since most wouldn't get a chance.

Cue one random night out. There's this coasto/mwarabu guy who every chic in the place is ogling. Can't blame them. It's the age old spell they are under. One of the few times I've seen women literally throwing themselves at a guy. Trying to get a kiss in. Or something. The guy didn't seem too bothered. Well, in truth he did look bothered. Probably has been in this kind of situation a million times before. Probably gotten tired of it. I got to talking to some chic at some point. She was livid at the guy. Who did he think he was. Feeling good and whatnot. He wasn't even that hot. Apparently he declined to give her the time of day or something. Tried to tell her that she was blowing things out of proportion. That the guy probably didn't have a watch is all. But no. She had to go on and recruit her friend. Do you think that guy is fly. Which guy. That one huko. Some frantic finger pointing and neck craning later, the friend returned her verdict. It was unanimous. The guy wasn't that attractive. I figured that there was some coercion involved so I tried to point out those magical qualities. The fair skin and non-steelwool hair. Surely, there was no denying it. The guy was a hunk. I was surprised that they didn't agree. This was either borne out of scorn, or that effect isn't as potent anymore. I pondered the latter possibility for a while. Perhaps that look isn't as exotic anymore. Perhaps more of it is visible and they walk everywhere among us, so the effect has worn off. Perhaps the laws of probability convinced some to give up their fantasies. Perhaps guys like us, who looked like everyone else, who haven't seen their navels for years, perhaps we stand a chance in the glare of the reflective types. Perhaps. Perhaps the phenomenon is no more.

Monday, December 08, 2008

A pao

It's amazing to see reactions sometimes. Like when Kamikaze buys Brenda, and all the other waitresses at the joint a round of drinks. Could hardly believe it. Although I was probably more intrigued by her reaction. She almost did a dance while heading away. And after that offered to go out of her way to do all sorts of stuff. Like get a round of sausages after the food guy had presumably gone home. Was she doing this because of a sense of obligation now, or was it driven by feel good chemicals flooding her brain. A rush of adrenalin through her body.

I'd seen that kind of thing before. Had absolutely no idea a pao could elicit such a response. No idea. It was like I'd done this amazing thing. Took me by complete surprise. It was nothing. I couldn't understand it. I guess the shoe wearer is the only one who knows where it pinches.

The thing about computers

Is that they can be unpredictable. One day some thing works. Next day it doesn't. How now.

I used to gauge some users' reaction to this kind of thing as mild irritation. After all, it wasn't their problem. Why isn't this or the other done. IT are yet to fix my computer, which is completely broken. So I can't work. Then the guy goes back to reading his newspaper. No need to get all worked up. It's not his problem. Of course it becomes his manager's problem and quite soon thereafter your problem. The thing is, you're probably as clueless as the guy with the problem. Who knows why that thing isn't working anymore. I always viewed it with a mixture of humour, the inevitable bemusement and mild rage. My desk-banging and self-muttering are legendary. Were. I find it interesting to see something that should work, not doing so. It's one of the reasons I was in the office after everyone had left, and on Saturdays. And some Sundays. While some of my colleagues were happy to seek out the first available workaround, my urge to know why just wouldn't let me rest. It's probably why a lot of people keep away from computing as a career. That stuff isn't easy. Guys are waiting for you to solve a problem yet you have no idea even what's causing it, let alone what the solution will be. I remember sometime in college being taught about software and it's complexity, and the way it's intangibility makes it that much more difficult to get right all the time. Cleanroom methodologies were meant to help. And it's not always bugs per se. Upgrades can be just as problematic and patience testing. Functionality that existed [and more importantly, that you used] in the previous version is gone. You get a comp with Vista and some of the stuff you had doesn't work anymore. What's a guy to do.

Saturday, December 06, 2008


The universe has a great sense of humour. A great sense of irony.

So I had finally garnered up the courage to delete this number from my yahoo address book. I keep some of the numbers I get here, just in case maybe someday down the road after I've deleted the number from my phone, I possibly may get the urge to get in touch again. Potentially. I'm a big fan of rationalization, so I figure that this scheme is a good thing in case I lose my phone or something. To rebuild my phonebook and stuff. Then there's the need once a number is deleted, and the concerned party texts or something, to check out the backup address book so as to discover who this blast from the past is.

I rarely delete numbers from the backup so when I do it's to break a back and forth cycle, the dreaded dance of death, or to take preventative action when a dance of death is deemed likely. Never an easy thing to do. But that's what I'd done Friday afternoon. Fast forward to 4am. We've ended up in Westlands. I'm fast turning into a popsicle. It's freezing. Kamikaze exchanges words with a bouncer and before you could say P.I.M.P, a lass had appeared in our midst. It was white-top. This gal does get around. Seems like furniture at quite a few places. But she's off as fast as she appeared. Something about the cold. After an equally brief period, she was back. With someone in tow. Black-top. I sure didn't see that one coming. I had just erased all her known contacts hours earlier. Now I bump into her? Now? Who writes these scripts.

After a while I'm whisked away. That "just say no" stuff works in ads but is much harder to do in real life. But I know what this is about. I'm just a guy to buy more drinks. ATM. That's what it was always about. I'm not as loaded as the Kamikaze but I can do one round for the 3 gals. There was a friend in the mix. As ever. Eventually, an hour down the line, they had to go home. The friend's [boy]friend was going to give them a ride home. That's that then. Till the next time the cosmos decides to have a laugh.

Friday, December 05, 2008


There are these ads that I've been seeing on the telly. Really interesting ones. If these aren't actors, I've been thinking, and this is the kind of faculty at London Business School, I'd be very interested to go over there. If this is how these people actually think and they aren't just reading some lines written out for them. These guys are brilliant. Got amazed every time I saw a different ad with a different professor, on a different topic. Each as thought provoking and intelligent as the previous one. Possibly even more.

One features a proposition that organisations' biggest asset these days isn't money necessarily. But talent. And, needless to say, that struck a cord with me. It always bewildered me from the time I left campus and got into the job market how much it seemed that firms put the bottom line first, rather than their human resource. I'm clueless at business but it didn't even make economic sense to me. A company would offer a guy double his pay or something when he says he's resigning. Why wait. If at some point you thought the guy was worth that much, why not give the guy the cash then. This is saving in the short-term I thought. Not in the long-term. Replacing guys isn't without cost. Perhaps indirect cost more than direct. One of the doctors told me at the time that we were just machinery in the assembly line. That's how businesses thought of workers. Look at cost of production. Lower it as much as you can. And if one guy leaves, bring in another guy and life goes on.

I was talking to aJamaa one evening before I formerly left it all. Would you hire me. Yes, he goes. But why. I'll only leave after 2 years. Then he told me how it is the good guys who leave organisations. Apparently "bad" guys never do. Never thought of it that way before. So how do you keep good guys. The professor suggested something; I can't quite remember what. The language used was too conc for me to remember. But I internalized it as making work and workplaces fun. When I was a kid, I didn't understand the concept of a job. Perhaps because my dad was unemployed most of that time. In contrast my niece seems to know exactly what "job" is. That thing that keeps you away from the house. The dad has been working crazy hours. Anyway. I decided that when I grew up, I didn't want a job. I instead wanted to work. And to me those were very different things. And for up to about a year and a half into working life I felt this way. I woke up in the morning and went off to work. I didn't think of it as a job. I just did some stuff and some guy happened to give me money at the end of the month. Yay. It started becoming a job when all sorts of bureaucracy started being introduced. Going to work started becoming a drag. Because I wasn't going to work anymore. I was going to a job. And that felt miserable. So I put in my 9 to 6 shift as I was required to, and no more. Started to look at my payslip and all of a sudden figured that I wasn't being adequately compensated. And that was a company of 25 people. Making life "fun" in big organisations is orders of magnitude more difficult. I actually don't quite understand how large organisations run. It's a miracle. I guess the CEOs deserve their million shilling salaries in that regard. But I think making a place somewhere where people want to come in the morning, rather than curse that they have to, isn't an impossibility. Not entirely anyway. And investing in this direction is worthwhile for a company to do. I think it pays in the long run.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008


I wondered what the dere of the mat was thinking, dropping us off at bus station. Never mind. Probably evading cops or something. When I alighted though is when it felt really strange. Looked different everywhere around me. Last time I was there it was a field of mud. Pretty much. Now it was paved. And looked ordered in some way. There was just something strange about the sight.

I'd not been there since high school. Not in any regular manner at least. And even then I used to take the bus so I used to be on the other side of the place. What happened to all the buses. It used to be a torturous journey the times I needed to take it. Mainly coming back from half-term and weekends off. Torturous. Journey used to take a really long time. More than an hour for sure. And the bus was always packed. Woe unto you if you were at the front next to that contraption that used to generate copious amounts of heat. I think it was the engine under there, or some device manufactured specifically to generate copious amounts of heat. If you weren't anywhere near a window there were real chances of you suffocating in there. If you were short and small and got stuffed along the bus' horizontal axis. Torturous. There's this one time I spent practically the whole journey with my face on some woman's breast. OK. Perhaps all but one of the trips were torturous. It was remarkable. Either the nerves in that general area of her body were long dead, or she just didn't care who was having his way with her, or she figured she'd give this little boy some fun. Make his day. I think the latter.

But it will be strange. I haven't taken a mat home from any place other than Tusker. Ever. That's huge. What happens to this iconic place. It gets turned into a normal city road with parking for personal cars? Weird. A truly seismic change. For me anyway.

La Liga

Managed to catch some Spanish football on Saturday. Astonishing how those guys go to stadia that late into the night. Leave the pub to go to the football.

Two things stuck out. How Real were shown dust. Devastated. Kind of the way Russia shocked Holland in Euro 2008. Amazing to watch. How inadequate Real's defense seemed to be. Didn't know Salgado still plays. But to be fair, Real's defending has always been suspect. It's why Casillas works so hard every game. Every single game. But it was the way the players couldn't believe what was going on. It was right in front of me and I couldn't believe they were losing either. Fabulous stuff.

Immediately after, Barcelona came on. Didn't know it was possible for the big 2 to play on the same day. What struck me in that game wasn't the fleet footed nature of Messi. Although the guy has fast feet. I needed a couple of replays to see how he worked his feet to score his goals. There's nothing more terrifying for a defender than a guy who is quick. I always hated guys who used their speed. Make you work so hard just trying to keep up. You're completely finished when it's over. But one needs more than just pace to be a good striker. Like Owen. Pace fades. One needs more all round qualities.

Even speed demons like Henry slow down with time. Or with different managers and teammates. And he was the second thing that caught my attention. It's no wonder the guy seems depressed over there. I wanted to point out to Guardiola that if one wants to [unsuccessfully] convert strikers to wingers, one should go to Liverpool. Benitez has perfected the art. He actually converts all types of players to wingers, not only strikers. No wonder Benayoun wants to leave. No clue why Babel is still there. Never looks happy, or comfortable on the wing. Every time Henry got the ball on the left wing, he cut back inside. That's what happens when you get a guy who is not a winger and who is right footed, playing on the left. It's not unique to him, nor his fault, but if I was a defender I would be pretty pleased with that kind of setup. He doesn't quite run at people anymore so the predictability of it all was quite saddening to see. He must have been muttering to himself, grumbling all the time the ball came to him. Not again. Here I go. Stop the ball. Take it back towards my right. Try to cross or something. Oh crap. Another move that's come to nothing.

Too much

Too many. Promotions. Kenyan businesses seem to be obsessed by them. Guys like Safaricom have a promotion or other going all year round. Remarkable. I guess guys in marketing departments have to do something to justify their salaries. And budgets.

But those weren't the promotions that got to me this past Saturday. Although they should. I never win anything after all. Hardly know anyone who does. And all those swa names they come up with for the competitions. Sometimes I think that's a competition in itself. Who can come up with the most esoteric word to use, germane or not.

Anyway. So I was making an outing to the supermarket. Needed some batteries. As I neared the entrance, I was almost stopped in my tracks. Fear. All over the place, left, right, ahead, promo gals standing about. In their promo T-shirts with tables of their promo stuff. There was one table with promo guys, but I think that was a bank selling loans or something. So none of it was entirely new. None apart from the the sheer numbers. I'd already had to perform evasive maneuvers to get past the Orange gals 100m back, and endured those who were trying to get me to buy nail cutters through some magic pata potea like scheme which I've never understood. Never paid enough attention to understand.

Now I was being confronted by a mob almost. Wanted to turn around and run. My usual tactics of putting on a mean face or pretending to read an sms or something weren't going to be enough here. I really hate being hassled. If I'm interested in something I'll come over and find out more. If I pass on by, or look like I'll pass on by, I'm fine. You need not jump in to explain how lovely the product is or the out of this world nature of the offer. It's employment creation I guess, and it can't be an easy job so more power to the gals. Perhaps bombarding people with all sorts of marketing stuff does work.

Another thing. Why do people do all their shopping at the end of the month. I now know one more place to avoid at end-month, in addition to banks. Why buy all the stuff you'll ever need ever on this one day. Guys had literal trolley fulls. Two trolley fulls. They're definitely paying with plastic those ones. No way you can walk around with enough cash to buy all that stuff. Why endure having to haul all that stuff about. It's not like they won't step into a supermarket again the rest of the month. Nor could it be that salos have just checked in so now is the only time they have money. You can't be living hand to mouth with that kind of shopping. If you really have to buy everything at one go why not do it at mid-month. Shorter lines.


Finally got to see the latest Bond. Was pleasantly surprised to find it still showing quite some time after it opened. And it was much more classic Bond. Although some review had compared some of the scenes to Bourne. I hope they would make more Bourne. There's Bond potential there, and this trilogy business is crap. There was one [2 second] portion of the movie that could have been straight out of Sunshine. I guess movies look more and more alike with time. I'm not sure if I'm starting to warm up to Craig as Bond. No. It's just that this one was a bit better than his first. Not that I understood the plot, or the title. But I guess Bond will always be big, regardless of who plays him, what he drives or what the story is about.