Wednesday, October 22, 2014

News and New Things

There's a weird kind of getting used to people part of new relationships with anyone when they start. Like, when you came screaming out of your mother's vagina, that was you acclimatizing to the fact that life will not always be a warm, cushy, jacuzzi-like setting (oh, how life lessons start early) and your momma ain't always going to have your umbilical cord - uh, back. Not because she doesn't want to, but I mean, you did just rip her apart. No?

Even with friends, it is weird. You don't know how much you should care. Whether to ask about their bipolar sister. To inquire if they are fat or pregnant. How their really hot cousin is. Their truthful opinion on Michael Jackson (look, for me, a friendship can end right there. Please say anything to my face about MJ that I don't like to watch our amity dissolve and bloooow in the wiiiiind). You don't know what to say. How to react when they're mad. What to get them for their 2 and a half month relationship anniversary, or indeed whether you should get them anything at all, and should it be something related to the theme of the party that they just invited you to.

Even with relationships, there is a formula that needs to be, in the words of my dear cousin on Dear Doris, calibrated. Two people have to calibrate themselves to each other. And this is probably the most uncomfortable, no? Like...those delicate questions that really show what a horrible person you are and have people screaming for the hills. Questions you pee in the shower? What's your honest opinion on anal? (the sex questions are ALL awkward. Especially any that involve bleeding from a snatch)/ Are you a cuddler? A tickler? A moaner? A screamer? (or infinitely more frightening - a silent, serial killer type of lover) If we go to a restaurant, can you eat nuts or will you swell up and die, thus taking the crown for Worst. Date. Ever.? Do you like to kick kittens like I do? Are you into that whole let's share toothbrushes thing? And do you identify with that deep, deep satisfaction that comes from mining out a booger deep, deep in the crevices of your nasal cavity? Wait, where are you going? Hey! Heeey! You didn't pay your bill!

New things are uncomfortable. Some snarky adaptable guy once said that change is the only constant and unfortunately, that is true. I have gone through a lot of changes lately (funny, my last post was about change too) (or not funny. Maybe tunnel vision.) (Tunnel buddies. Raaaaawrrrr.) (No?). I moved house...I've been burgled twice...changed jobs...the list is not long, but it does have a few heavy hitters that got me writing this post (guys, when someone steals your laptop and you write for a living, sometimes, it kills you inside.)

I have found the answer to dealing with change. Silver Linings (PLAYBOOK!). When your laptop is stolen, look at it as an opportunity to shop for that shiny upgrade you always wanted. No money for that? Show a little support for Koinange Street. Hustle. Find a way. Power through. When your heart is broken, tell yourself that all that unprotected sex was a bad idea anyway (lol, JK. Mostly. I mean...your genits are yours to herpify with. Do you.). When your boss is being an idiot...quit. The only person responsible for your happiness is yourself, and life is far too short and full of potential misery to not grab it when you can (now, THAT's what they should teach in high school). Unless you have kids. Then you can't quit. Because you're responsible for their happiness. Sorry. LOL.

I felt to share a few of the new things that happened to me this month:

For one thing, they have increased the cost of transaction on the Buy Goods function at petrol stations from 2 to 3 bob. WHAT SORCERY?
Also, nowadays, in town, you can Lipa na Mpesa on a bodaboda. Whose idea was this anyway? Mpesa is the past present and future. Bow down, b*s.

THE 3 Rs
Rest, Rejuvenate and RECYCLE. Or something. I'm going to go back to the old school and buy glass bottles of soda from now on. When I buy plastic bottles, that I am going to throw away anyway because you can't use them again because sijui cancer sijui sunlight reactions, I don't feel like I am helping the world. SO. Glass/sand thaaangs from now on.

And if I am sijui at a fast food place where we have to rush out, I'll just sip everyone else's soda if they don't have botis hehe. Make THEM the bad guy. Or carry my own water. Basically, NOT contribute to leaving a legacy of myself behind that will be waaaaayyy more detrimental (and last waaaaahaaaahaahaaaayyyy longer than, like, my bones) to the future. You know, the one with robots. Who they should make eat plastic. I like this plan.

has added new things to their menu and it is making me excited. Even though it shouldn't be. Like the guy who's been loooooking at you the entire party who is cute but is making absolutely NO moves and then waits until you're leaving to be like, 'Hey.' You brush him n* you SAW me here the WHOLE time...psssshhh...but you're still excited as you stalk past him in a cloud of indignation and assurance that you're still attractive, and he's just slow, thank Jesus.
Java and I have a love-hate thing going on where I cheat often and tell them that I'm cheating...but always end up coming back. Sigh. Someday I'll wean myself of you, Lithium, with your overpriced burgers and inconsistent food quality. Someday. But for today? (ok, this week...) That strawberry chicken salad thing they've got going on? I'm. So. Ready.


P.S. Ndiransh, my love, I miss you. Come back to me. Warm my heart with the warmth of your witty words and wily whisperings.

P. P. S. While we're on that new tip, Samsung gave bloggers TVs and the one who wins gives away the TV to someone and I want that someone to be me. So go check out this ka-blogger and share and like and facebook...because I want a new TV, obviously. It's the #Samsung Blogger Challenge. Tweet with it. And stuff. And. Yeah. So. TV. Get on it.
I'll, like, do something too. Flash a boob, maybe. Who knows?

Friday, August 15, 2014


it's funny how money changes situations
miscommunication leads to complications

It's funny how life changes too.
My life is so different from what it was when I finished university. I thought it hadn't changed much. In some cases (like in Wolverine's case) I am glad it hasn't changed too much. In others, I am extremely glad that I am smarter than I thought I was.

I have ditched jobs I hated, or jobs I thought were ok, for jobs I loved. I have worked just for the money - things I never thought I would do (because, duh. All the movies say that is a terrible idea), which I am, surprisingly, still doing in some aspects of my career (job trajectory? Shit I do for rent? I don't know). I have also ditched bosses I loved for the ability to sleep as much as my seemingly 40 year old body needs to. One is curious about what I will actually be doing at 40.

I have ditched belief systems I thought I had for ones I thought I was already living. I was reminded of this today, when after a (very important) meeting (that made me shower and get out of the house), I met a friend of mine.

Well, he is not a friend. We go to the same church. He used to be the bad boy that all the church mamas keep their innocent (not so innocent) children away from. He always hugged to close. Had the look in his eye. Had the thing in his walk like he was carrying something heavy that he wanted to share.

Now, he is the one trying to convince me of salvation.

I wonder if I was like that during my saved phase? I don't remember. His life makes a good testimony towards what he so clearly believes in so much now - from what I can see, anyway.
I wonder when I changed so much?


Saturday, July 26, 2014

Crushing Season

He's young.

I don't think it never has in the past. Others have been young. And they were still good kissers.

We talk almost every day. I tell Wolverine that I am talking to him. He knows. I don't know if I am validating that I am or trying to be as open as I can about the fact that we talk every day. Not almost every day.

He looks cute in the picture. And he likes my legs (but wants 5 kids so we know that isn't going anywhere). Doesn't make him less cute in the picture, though.

I wonder what he wants. I think I know what he wants.
I wonder if he's going to say it.
I'm pretty sure I know what I want.


Friday, July 18, 2014


This is my post from Storymoja this week.
I feel very strongly.
Can you tell?

If you haven’t gathered from the last post, I like to talk about Vaginas And Their Environs. Also, it’s a post kind of about a hip hop song, so…yeah. Even more cussing than the last one. Just letting you know.

Recently I watched the T.I. video ‘No Mediocre’ featuring Iggy Azalea. Now, I usually love T.I. Right after he rapped on Justin’s Future Sex – My Love, I was IN love. I still quote him every time someone says ‘Why yes. You can have whatever you like.’ (this really does not happen as often as I would want and/or require) I LOVED the gangster virtuosity of What You Know. Heck, I even watched his reality show with Tiny.

But I CANNOT with this song.

I’m a feminist, for the most part (which means, you know, that I think that people should have equal rights all together, so basically I’m a humanist in the basic definition of the word, which, really, ALL PEOPLE SHOULD BE), which makes it rather hard for me to be a hip hop fan. But I love hip hop; I’m a writer. I like words. And smart words? Wit? Satire? Funky town wordplay? I’m done, son.

But if it isn’t Rick Ross spewing some idiocy about drugging a girl so he can sleep with her, it’s ‘hoes’ not being loyal. My problem is that I fucking love those songs. That’s my fucking problem. So more often than not…I ignore Rick Ross (who, to be fair, can’t rap anyway. If you’re gonna roofie a girl, muster some lyrical prowess at least, why don’t you. *rolls eyes*) and interpret Chris Brown (who, again, should I be listening to? Nope. Thank you, YouTube, for allowing me to not enrich these people. No? Pirate Bay? Kick Ass Torrents, anyone?) how I prefer to interpret him, because let’s be honest, sometimes, the bitches you know really aren’t loyal.

But I digress. (there are a lot of buts in this post. And I digress…again.)

These are the first four lines of T.I.’s rap, and the song:

Right hand in the air, I solemnly swear
I never fuck a bitch if she don’t do her hair, no more
You won’t get no dick if it’s a bush down there
Girl, I should see nothing but pussy when I look down there

I replayed this bit a couple of times because I couldn’t believe this line. Now, this doesn’t happen often for me. Yeah, I listen to the words, but sometimes the words don’t hit me immediately (like when I FINALLY heard what they say in Bendover after twerking it a couple of times in the club). I suppose it should though. But this one hit at me immediately because it was so directly offensive to things I have been fighting people about since I was, like, 12.

I’m sorry, what was that, T.I.? You won’t fuck a bitch if she don’t do her hair? Because hair stays exactly the same all through – like a perfectly coiffed metal do? Riiiiight. I see that all of the video vixens (and your wife, yay!) have done their hair, so that is great for you. Just to clarify – you’ll fuck her but won’t wife her, or…because there’s nowhere where you say you’re interested in wifing anybody (because…you know. Tiny.). So you’re either A, talking about the chick you are going to fuck who you aren’t wifing, or…you’re talking about your wife. Ok. Great.

Now this is where I got really turned UP (in all honesty…I should also quit with offensive hip hop. *sigh*).

T.I. is trying to tell women everywhere who want to date short sexy (I’m sorry, he really is) daddies (I’m sorry, again, for that uncomfortable visual – but dude has like 7 kids, yo) like him that their vaginas need to look like a 5 year old boy’s.

Look, I have nothing against manscaping…scaping…masochism…honestly. As long as it is YOUR CHOICE. NOT because some random guy tells you to. And really, guys…what is WITH that? Why do guys feel the need to direct women so specifically about how they should look/what they should wear/how they should sound DOWN TO WHAT MY PUBES SHOULD LOOK LIKE?

I mean, I’ll do it if you will. Back, crack and sac. I’m down. I’ll take off my weave (ha! Figuratively of course, because…dreads) if you’ll put the toilet seat down EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I mean, guys. Really. This is the most. It’s about SMASHING. I think the dynamics are different when you go into a big holy building and swear to love a person forever in front of your deity of choice…but this song is about SMASHING. The song is talking about him only wanting bad bitches, but I am interested in being the ONLY bad bitch (quote unquote…mostly), not one in the bevy surrounding him in the video (who, of COURSE, are wearing about as much as his hat). He won’t fuck a bitch who won’t do her hair? Dude, I have dreads. They’re messy, and they’re gonna look like this for a while. In fact, I probably won’t do my hair just to weed out the dirtbags who sing songs like these. I am sooooooooo not interested if this is something you think, amirite?

And I’m not going to shave my vagina, either. The idea of a razor so close to my labia minora makes me distinctively uncomfortable for more than just historic reasons. On top of that, it itches, it’s uncomfortable, and painful, but aside from that, I JUST DON’T WANT TO.

Welcome to the bush. Have a pleasant flight.

If you, like, deserve it.

lyrics courtesy of

Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Lion King

This post has nothing to do with the Lion King, except for a passing reference that is on my mind. Think about the Lion King (if you even liked the Lion King. If you didn't, stop reading this right now. What kind of human doesn't like the Lion King? Unless. They're. Not. Human.)

I have a new crush.
She's a girl.

This has a tendency to happen to me when I switch working locations (though, strangely enough, not at my last job. That I can remember. So if I can't remember, it wasn't much of a crush, was it?), and voila, after quitting my job (which I want to quit again...but that's another blog), here we are again, on the eve of something beautiful, some...wheeere...over the raiiinboooowwww...

So anyway...
new crush new crush falalalalala

She's not ugly. She's not Halle Berry, but she's not ugly. Above average would be the grade I'd give. I don't really have a type, to be fair, on either side of the divide.
What IS beautiful though, is her mind. I can't get enough of it. I could sit and listen to her all day (and she's a talker, lemme teeeell you). But I keep acting stupid around her.
You know that thing that people do when they have crushes? An average conversation goes like this.

tSN: Omg X is so dumb.
C: Really?
tSN: I mean..not duuuuumb, like, dumb...but smart it's dumb, you know?
C: I don't think so.
tSN: I think whatever you think. *wipes drool*
C: What?
tSN: Nothing. Great weather, right?
C: Um...
tSN: I mean, not great like GREEEEAT...

...and so on and so forth. I second guess myself constantly. And it's making me feel dumb.
I mean, not duuuuuumb, like, DUMB...


Wednesday, July 9, 2014

On Crazy Women, 2

I'm still aliiiiiiive!

She didn't hunt me down like all crazy people in a movie, and we can all be thankful that the blog can go on.


So many things have happened since my last blog. These events mainly include feature films...i.e. Transformers and X-Men: Days of Future Past which I have really been waiting ETERNITIES to watch and thanks to wonderful people (I really do know some super amazing people), I watched. Hey, I got the popcorn (at the new cinema at Prestige - yes, it has opened again).

But the short post I wanted to write today as I am being ditched for football is about this post, aka Some Not So Super Amazing People.

You should click on it before you continue or the rest won't make sense/will be a spoiler.

Have you clicked?

Did you read it?


Just go.

It's not long.

I'm lying, it is.

A little.

Just go, AH!

Good boy.

So, anyway, the chick in that blog?

IMAGINE she texted me jana.
Ok don't imagine, because, as in, she did.
So now what do I do?
I couldn't even text back, guys. I didn't know what to say.
She was all '...sorry...' '...strained our friendship...' '...I'll keep you posted...'

GUISE. I'm so confused. What do I do? I had totes decided to sue her (3 years later...enyewe passive aggression si poa). It's like she had sensed a disturbance in the force when I was talking to my lawyer.

Sa nifanye?
I reply?
I call?
I sue?
I write a blog post...again?



Thursday, July 3, 2014

On Crazy Women

I’ve always said that relationships are hard. And the reason they are hard is because most people are one of two things: immature, or crazy.

The things that make them so are several: people are immature because they lack experience in relationships. They think that playing games as if you’re in a life-long rom-com is the way to snag a guy – a list of tips ad misguided judgment will not, actually get you to the aisle in no time. You’re not Katherine Heigl, and this is not high school.

Other people are crazy, simply because love makes you do crazy things. I have in fact been known to do crazy things, which I will not mention on this forum – or rather, on this particular post –but there is solid evidence behind my theory: parents.

Our parents are crazy and drive us crazy because they LOVE US SO MUCH. It’s a blessing and a curse; there’s a thin line between love and suffocation. The way your parent loves you is a love of extreme proportions; they alternately want to shower you with affection and whip your butt blue with equally strong levels of feeling.

I think love, romantic love, is the same. I have always said that what romantic love really is is choosing not to strangle someone when you have the choice –by someone, I mean significant other, as opposed to other people (who may or may not be fair game, depending on whether you think orange is the new black).

Which brings me to the point of my post.

The other day, in the middle of the night, I got a text from a girl. It was 1 am. I was doing the usual not-nightrunning activities: series, Twitter, etc.

This girl – and I deliberately use this word, because though she is older than me, she doesn’t really act like it – asked me why I don’t understand the concept of boundaries where her boyfriend is concerned.

Now, I can see where she is coming from. One, people generally suspect platonic relationships between members of the opposite sex are false. Two, she’s crazy with love.

I asked her what boundaries she meant and why she was using his phone to text me. Yes, you read that right. She didn’t even bother to think about the fact that he would see it; she just unlocked his keypad (and loosened her cranium) and clicked send.

Maybe it is true what they say - love does make you stupid (or in the very least, blind – to the fact that you are being stupid).

In any case, she did not reply my message, but it got me thinking about the psychoses that women nurture to explain away their insane behavior. It all boils down to love. Whether it’s peeing all over your man to mark your territory (i.e. sending texts from his phone to prove a point) or tying him down as best as you can (by alienating all his female friends because who needs another female in his life?), she texted me because she was scared to lose the love of her life to his friend (either that, or she’s been watching Misery and is taking it to the next level one step at a time).

Much as it is admirable to fight for love, we risk fighting to also unscrew a few bolts in our head. You don’t want to look like the girl who has the look of madness in her eye, tottering on a broken heel as you chase after your fleeing (screaming) man yelling sonnets of dedication. It’s not a good look.

Moral of the story: He doesn’t love you? Buy a cat.


p.s. Orange is the new Black Season 2 is GOLD.