Monday, June 28, 2010

The thighs have it

They say macho hayana pazia. And I think this is especially so with men's eyes. No matter how much they see, they never shiba. After being caught staring a significant number of times, mouth agape and all, I thought it better for my own well-being to not look so much. To be making a conscious effort not to look. Effort which as it turns out, needs to be herculean. It's like the head has a mind of its own, and it shall not be denied. You find yourself doing serious battle, trying to prevent the neck muscles from behaving in such a manner as to move your head towards the object of interest.

You're seated down innocently one minute, minding your own business, and all of a sudden you start to feel those pesky neck muscles contracting. You know what this means but you're somewhat bewildered because there is nothing in your line of sight to cause parts of your body to react this way. But you soon realise that peripheral vision is not just some medical mambo jumbo. There, out of the corner of your eye, are thighs. Belonging to some lovely lady who on this fine day has chosen to wear a lovely skirt. One which when she's seated, as one typically does when seats are available, appears much shorter than it really is.

You try to peel your eyes back, but like magnets, they keep snapping back to the right. Panic starts to set in. You move your head a suitable amount of degrees away from her direction. Try to look at some random thing on this other side. But this is going to be one of those losing battles. These thighs are those ones sometimes referred to as yellow yellow. Zinametameta. And eyes, as everyone knows, tend to move towards shiny objects. Well, I'm not quite sure if this is experimentally proven, but it's going to be my defense today.

How the game is played

I've forgotten. Or I never knew.

I can't seem to catch a break now. Thought I was onto some amazing, exciting opportunities. First one we can call blueberry (fruit right?). Met at a club, talked for ages that night, caught a few rubs. I saw that as the start of something wonderful. Then I met strawberry the next weekend. Not as forthcoming with the smooches as blueberry but I was willing to be patient. Keep at it, something has to give.

Therein, I am meant to understand by a certain un-resident doc, is the crux of the issue. That waiting. Things have changed. While I was mired in a sedentary relationship, things were picking up speed in the outside world.

24 hours. That is the new waiting period. If you haven't closed the deal within that period, iko shida.
I'm getting to realise that first hand. Blueberry doesn't respond to smses. I kept at it, then I think I get it now. Sent me a message saying she is away for two weeks. I get it blueberry. Fine. I'll leave you alone.

Strawberry also has issues. She won't come when I call. She won't stay long as I want. Even after giving up the smooches and letting me get to third base (which one is that by the way? I had everything off at some point, just the panties left and then she froze on me. Crap!) she's still not forthcoming. She has on several occasions made me resort to pleading. Then she humiliates me further by telling me to stop begging.

These are hard, embarrassing times for me. Unbecoming behavior. I don't remember myself being the begging kind. I guess I never had practise with coaxing the ladies out of their pants. It kinda just happened. With the help of booze mostly.

Things done changed for me. The game has changed. I never stayed on top of things. Literally. I was supposed to stay on top of other and new fruits. Stay in the game. I settled into my miserable existence. Stewing in my own inability to take action. Blaming myself for my situation. And with those thoughts, sinking further and further into some sort of malaise.

But I'm breaking out! The game has to be played. Got to remember the rules. Learn the new ones. Improve.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Bleeding heart

That is the affliction.

I remember this guy that never gave a flying crap about the femmes.
Then he was down on his luck. Lost his source of revenue and then his digs. So he reached out to a fruit that was always about. This damsel took him in. Gave him a place to stay and was putting out. Sex on tap, roof over his head, food on the table. She even threw in some clothing once in a while.

He could have gone back to his mom's. In fact, occasionally, he did. However, it wasn't the same. He'd outgrown his mom's digs. There was a younger bro ruling the roost. He had settled into his big bro's room. Fit into his shoes. Bringing the ladies in, you know, made his bro proud. So this guy figured he wouldn't come back and re-take what was once his, he'd just try and fit in. It was hard.

So, he decided to just hang out with the nice fruit. Stick it out as he sorts himself out. That was also hard. He'd never really seen anything long term there. Or anywhere. So like all good procrastinators, he kept putting off actually leaving her permanent. I might add that he was never one to leave things permanently. Always left them, somehow, on good or relatively can-go-back terms.

Time went by. A year passed and this guy (often going back to mom's and returning to fruit's - like a little girl) got a job. Out of a sense of loyalty, the feller stayed. Listened to the fruit's crap everyday. Took it stoically. Then she went ahead and got herself knocked up. More angst for the guy. Can't leave now can I? I can never leave! More procrastination. Does he leave? Does he not? The baby. It hasn't done anything wrong. It just has a daft mother. What to do?

Then he remembered. He never gave a flying crap about the femmes. That he had forgotten. He had become a wuss. He'd rather live paying child support, get called a crappy dad but reclaim his old life. Maybe make a new one. Stop the bleeding heart nonsense. You can only owe someone so much. Not your life. Remember that you are who you are. But more broke.

Age is a number

The football world has brought a new dimension to the age issue. When i was in school vying for the school team & even going for some kenya under 18 team trials, i thought i was beginning my journey to top fitness coz top players in the world were 24 yrs. So i thought i had several yrs to get there. 24 found me more of a drunk than an athlete but i still considered my self 'fit'. Even then i knew that top athletes were considered past their best at 30 and it looked like 30 was light yrs ahead. So here i am, 30 something, urging on coaches in those premiership clubs to sell/fire/kill of players who are 30 and cant run anymore, it was all ok until i was reminded of my age. It got me wondering, are those players like Scholes, Henry, Raul old? they are on the verge of retirement coz they are 30+. That translates to a guy telling me to retire coz i'm too old! how comes? When did 30+ become old? when did ppl start retiring at 30? If i were to get my pension & terminal benefits kesho i"d die!! How can 30 be old? If my plumbing still works, i can climb 10 levels of stairs, i can take several beers, i can attempt to sheki leggi, i can run round a pitch. how is that old?

Maybe i'm one old grumpy geezer refusing to accept the inevitable

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Have my cake and eat it

I thought that would be as good a title for this post as any.

So I slipped on a banana the other day. Actually the other year. I went ahead and moved in with Bananas. I thought, hey, I can keep getting some, and at some point I'll just bounce. It's been a year and a half now.

In that time, I've left and gone back a couple of times. Then she went and did it. She got knocked up. Apparently I had something to do with it. I can play along, but at some point that DNA thing will have to factor in.

Anyways, going by the title, here is where we get into a pickle (what does that mean really?). I want out. I so want out. And all I keep hearing when I raise this issue (with myself and a few people), is that I'm just talking. I deserve that. Look at the banana-kamikaze track record.

Now, this brings up all sorts of feelings. One, I don't want to be a crappy guy and walk out when the ripe banana is about to burst open (3 or so months to go). Another, I don't want to look like I don't have the stomach for doing what I say, all I do is rant as soon as I get high. Three, I don't want to have to throttle someone in the middle of the night (now or in some future where it is either that or I walk in front of a moving truck / bus / high speed subaru).

So it gets to that point right now that I want out. And I want to go for it. How does that even reflect in the title? It doesn't does it? I want bananas to accept the fact that she trapped me with this crap, and she should just go ahead and let me run for the hills, and, out of her good nature, not sue me for things like child support and not send any goons for my kneecaps.

Two fruits lined up. Damn straight they are part of the reason I want to take off. Can't wait to take off. No name for the latest, but I think strawberry should do it for the first. Just need to do the follow-ups for both.

More later.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Gods gift

Gods greatest gift to men starts tomorrow! the world cup! I know its a big deal to many that its being held in africa but i frankly dont give a @*# where its held as long as the times are friendly, games coming from about 5pm to latest 11pm. I've not seen the schedule but i think the games will fall somewhere within those times.

If there's an idea or moment that gets guys united is the world cup, fine, some fellas will lose their life savings by betting on a losing team, some guys wife will run off with the neighbour coz husband is too glued to tv, some crazy dudes will hang themselves coz their teams lost and even some red blooded jungu will contract hiv in s.a kulaing those sluts but thats the world cup for u.

What other event can bring USA and North korea into the same event other than war?

My earliest recollection of the world cup was the '86 in mehico, u know the maradona world cup. i cant quite remember any exact move i saw on tv but what stuck in me is how bananas my zaks & some uncle were! Maradona and canigia were the names! no sentences could have been completed without those names being uttered! The other thing i remember is that matches came at odd hrs, guys had to wake up at 3am. Coke guys even made 'peles' of maradona which was a 'color D'. Those were the white inner linings of soda bottle tops that were removed & guys in school had a game where u blow to flip them & some how the winner was the kid who could flip the most (it doesnt make any sense now) Maradonas was a coloured one so we called it a 'color D'

Italy '90 was a blur coz was in a boarding school and they let us watch the cameroon games, semis and final. wont forget when roger milla & his boys made us proud. But the moment that sticks out was how Roberto Baggio missed that pena! How???

USA '94. Was in another boarding school but still caught a few matches. I had so much hope in the nigerian team coz had such powerful players like Yekini, amokachi, amunike etc. That yekini guy was scary, his face looked like a clenched fist!
I think they went past the 2nd round. Wont forget roger millas goal, was he like 50 yrs? (42 actually). Maradona f**kd up again with his cocain. romario & bebeto did their thing. Not too memorable

Franc '98. Cant remember much coz there abouts my attention was held by some chick ( i am so ashamed to have abandoned WORLD CUP for a gal & i deserve multiple life sentences. I had the highest hopes for nigeria & camerron but they did zero! nigeria had a comic for a G'keeper, the guy let in like 3 easy goals, even our dog could have stopped those goals! Oliseh had a wonder goal, i still see it being replayed. Okocha tried but the eagles failed. Ronaldo dissppointed big time! that was meant to be his tournament but injury right before spoilt his moment. How did those french boys chapa 3 past brazil? ok, zidane headed in the 2 & was it petit who scored the 3rd?

South korea/japan '02. I liked the timing of the matches. came between 8am-2pm. That was the best time in campus coz for a whole month a didnt go to school except for the obligatory CATs. Opening match set the tone! defending champs france were hammered 1-0 by senegal! Madness! was at K1 having some pitchers! France came with 3 leading scorers in different leagues, trezeguet in italy, henry in england and , forgotten the other and left the tourna without scoring! Thats impotence! Senegal did us proud man! i think they lost in the quarters to a sudden death goal, was it to sweden? Davor zucker and his boys (i forget the country) went to the semis destroying germany in the process! Brazil had a stroll in the park. Must mention the ronaldinho goal that left seaman for lost (was it meant to be a cross) , the michael owen weaving run past the argentinians. Luis figo underperforming, Turkey giving brazil a run for their money etc

Germany '06. Fake tournament. Italy won,

What were your moments?

Thursday, June 03, 2010

eye opener

Went to a zaks pub juzi, found this guy who looked 50yrs with a mathee looking 45. they were making out big time! Kissing of lips, neck, couldnt see the guys hands, one hand had dissappeared under her top. I had mixed feelings, on one hand i was embarrassed that senior guys like them would have a go at a pub but also jazzed that when i'm 50 i'll still have the guts to pull such stunts! But what was for sure is they were not married to each other.


Life can be boring when things get predictable. Last couple of days the expected happened. I have been a victim for a while, women mis-using me for their own personal gains just coz i was brought up not to say no to a lady(ies). They use me for company when their preferred men are absent from them, they use me when they feel like they need a guys arms around them, i also get sexually used every so often. i guess thats what being a guy is. The other day i hesitated when one of them wanted assuarances on 'where we r headed with this' & predictably she ran to her fiancee. The other young one in not so many words ran away when she realized i cant dance to the song 'bend over'! How does a guy dance to that song while all chicks in the club are trying their utmost to break a guys pelvis with their wanton thrusts and grinding? I'm too old for that shit! While another refused to talk to me coz she's re-assessing our engagement.
What this has brought me is utmost peace, my own space! Now i can go out to purely enjoy wildlife (tourists look at animals to pass time, i look at women). Perhaps looking for the next person to use & abuse me as they wish. For a long time i dont have to do the daily obligatory phone calls to several people.