Monday, February 28, 2011

Of Pasts and Purchased goods

The thing is,your love life is like a world cruise on a huge,beautiful luxurious ship (you) around the wide and variegated world (men. Or women. Whatever your taste,just don't get too kinky.) (or do. :D) Under most circumstances,you are content to sit on the ship and enjoy its delicacies/sport/company,but inevitably,at each port,you will be inclined to perhaps,maybe,do more than just admire the docks. Then,you may even...disembark. Discover you like the natives and venture ashore. Heaven forbid,get back on the boat with a colorful possibly cheap souvenir. I mean,who doesn't like souvenirs?

Someday,you'll line up all your little shiny trinkets. You'll have a memory behind each one. And then one little piece will jolt you straight back to the day you bought it...and why you bought it,and who you bought it from.

I went to Mr. T's house. The whys and hows are irrelevant,but it was terrible,and frightening,and strange,and nostalgic,and familiar. I stepped in through the door and he smiled that feral smile of his that always made me weak,but right then made me panic. He looked smaller. Neater. Focused. I fiddled with everything because I was nervous,like a butterfly trapped in a cage regardless of knowing where the flap to freedom is. I flitted about so he couldn't catch me. He looked like he wanted to catch me. Focused.

How are you?

Good,good. How's work?

Fine. I like it. You?

We weren't really talking. His eyes roamed over me,over mine,raking like hot coals on a cold,glacial surface. Then he said
Spend the night.

I laughed in desperation,because I knew he was serious.

What would my boyfriend say?

I won't tell him.

Why do men do that? Taunt. Tease. Mean it. Tease again. Of course I declined. Still panicking. I sat down. He said

That brings back memories.

Of what?

You know.

I knew. All of a sudden I started to babble about some movie we'd watched,then my words abruptly slowed to a trickle when I realized he was wearing socks when we'd watched it.

Did I give you that necklace?

Your eyes still look the same.

I'd missed you.

So you're interviewing someone here for work?


Interview me.


I asked him questions. Wrote down what he said. Then he looked at me,those annoyingly meaningful looks,and said
We could never have dated.

I nodded mutely like I understood,like we'd had this conversation many times before,yet we hadn't. Yet we had. I stood up to leave. He stood.

Let me check something...

He pulled me in,closer,closer. Too close. He was leaning in. I gently pushed him away.



Ok. Even a little?


A little banter,then I left.

But I remember why I bought that trinket. I wanted it so badly,but it turns out it wasn't the kind I wanted. If the trinket could've spoken,it would've said the same thing. Luckily,Mr T was not a mute souvenir. And when I said goodbye,it felt like the last time.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Ex 'Rule'

Women get amusedly antsy when you start saying things around their boyfriends like, “Ei, na si your man is fine?” I get this. Though I am often the woman extolling his manly attributes, I (try to) only do this to my friends’ boyfriends, who I know nothing will ever happen with (because they know where I live).

However, I really do NOT understand why women are soooo touchy about friends getting with their exes. YEAH I SAID IT. The Rules/Code/Girl Law, you say? Whatever, man. (Ha! Exactly! Whatever man! Hehe) And yes, I would let/have let my friends do my exes. Sometimes, I even share. I talk like this coz I can back it up.
So here’s my argument for it.

1. Y’all broke up.

2. Y’all broke up.

3. Y’all broke up.

4. If I asked you if you were ok with it, and you said you were, and you weren’t…now whose fault is that?

5. If it’s a respectable time period after y’all broke up (instead of, you know, 2 days…but that’s another story), and you’re supposedly over dude in question…why not? And if you aren’t over dude in question, don’t tell me you are. Or clearly we’re not really friends if you’re fibbing. Hmmm…

6. Possessive? Ok. I can get that. But after like 6 years, grow up.

7. That whole oh-so-now-you’re-doing-my-leftovers thing doesn’t bother me either. Isn’t everyone someone’s leftovers?

8. Was I looking at him when y’all were together? If it was me, I most probably checked him out, but by virtue of the fact that he’s your man, a curtain goes over him. It’s like, your dad. HOWEVER. When you break up, curtain = lifted. #jussayin. Refer to Reasons 1-3.

9. I have the added benefit of already knowing that he’s not a psychotic weirdo/serial killer. Unless you broke up because he’s a psychotic weirdo/serial killer.

10. We can compare notes! It’ll be like watching a movie at different times and talking about if after…together. (cue The Rembrandts – I’ll be there for you, coz you’ve been there…too)

11. Some women have insecurities like relationships are a competition. Like oh, what can I do better than you. It’s not about what I can do better or worse. By virtue of the fact that we are not the same person, it’s what I do different. That he likes more, maybe, but that’s going to be the case with his next girl anyway.

12. Better the devil you know, right?

13. It’ll make you a better person. By seeing him with someone who you know, you won’t hate as much because we’re friends, and thus become less of a backbiting, bitter ex. Or you can hate to me, which will therefore be more constructive and you’ll feel like you’re really making a change in the world. For example, instead of
“Mmm, check out that *** Michael hooked up with.”
“She has nothing on you! Have you seen her weave? MAWE need to be informed.”

This could be
“Ah, chick, you can’t be walking around with that thing on your head. I set a standard, bana.”
“You think it’s that bad?”
“Ok, cool. Good looking out.”

Why can’t we just all get along?


Monday, February 21, 2011

The ones who got away.

My love life has been guided by a principles. First and foremost,yea,most auspicious of these :D is the firm and repeatedly proven belief that I can get pretty much any guy I want. Unfortunately,sometimes the guys I want refuse to get on board with my very nearly conclusive truth. :D

In class 7,one of my best friends was a girl called A. (this has a WHOLE other story behind it that I will get to in due time.) She was one of the popular girls; I was one of the random weird ones. We used to go to each other's houses. I knew her folks,she knew mine. She was very,very cool.

And she had a very,very fine brother,B. B was possibly the finest thing my 12 year old eyes had ever had the blessing to gaze upon. He was funny,and I've always been a sucker for dimples. The first thing he said to me was 'You know everyone hates you,right?' (I was the new girl. Sigh.) I should've seen from the get-go that it was never meant to be.

Then there was C. Dimples again. He was my girl's ex,from years back. She said it was ok if I made a move on him...after I spent an hour convincing her that it was ok... (The Ex Rule. Next post.) I got his number. Turned out he wasn't interested in chastity. My heart broke,and I kept his number for when something else breaks. :D

D. Dimples. Hmmm. Pattern? D is a certified whore. Mostly because he looks the way he does. I'm sure he can't help it. When I met D,he was really good friends with my girl,who was completely uninterested-to this day,something I don't understand. He stroked my ego like it was legend :D He even liked big girls! I wanted to do relatively impure things to his persona,but never got the chance. Don't exactly remember what happened there. He was kinda flaky,and probably had a girlfriend,and I probably got distracted by Mr. T. Or JavaGuy. Or someone.

And then...then I started working,and I met him. And he might be one of the ones who get away too.


Saturday, February 19, 2011

To be or not to be.

I went to school with a girl called Ella. I always thought she was funny looking,a tad half-baked,but I was the only one who thought so. Everyone else-including the guys-thought she was stunning. Probably the LSB syndrome,which will be discussed during a further post. Today is not a day for controversy and lynching.

Ella,for some reason,felt the need to be nice to me. It was probably my sparkling personality. :D (remember Die Another Day? :D) However,to the girls she was especially friendly to would tell me how she had so many issues,it was unbelievable,ranging from pathological liar to suicidal lunatic. I accepted this and held her at arms length.

Ella was really smart. She used to get straight As and still somehow manage to party hard. When we cleared,I didn't see her again until maybe a year later. She looked normal,still a snazzy dresser,still half-baked. Still nice to me.

Then I saw her a year later and she looked...different. Her hair shone like it had just been burnt-sorry,done. Her heels were a millimeter away from Trampville,but she managed to rock them. Her dress clung to her significant curves,and this was only noon! She gleamed with the wealth of the well-kept. But her skin looked haggard and her eyes,empty.

Every time I saw her after that,she looked richer but emptier. A mutual friend told me she lives in a paid-for apartment in a leafy suburb in this our Nairobi. She drives,too. She never finished university.

I understand ambition. I get malcontent,feeling like there must be more you can get from life. I can identify with wanting to be a billionaire,so freaking bad. But quite possibly,there's a thin line between ambition,the lunacy she may still possess and the prostitution that she may now practice. The lengths that we go to to get what we really,really want do not have to be proportional to the number of old white dudes we sleep with who suck the youth from Ella's gaunt,excessively made-up face.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011


If there was suddenly a fire at the digz,and I had to grab things to leave,there would be a problem. Mostly because of what I wear to sleep. However,in descending order of importance,these are the first 5 things I would grab. Now,I sleep with a teddy bear,so that'd be automatic,first thing I'd get. And yes,I know they should just run,but I'm a material girl,I'm not leaving my sh** behind lol.

First thing I'd grab,especially if it was the only thing I could grab,would be MY PHONE. I have an intense attachment to every phone I've ever owned. They all have names. They all sleep right next to me. I see y'all saying that explains a lot,radiation. :D My phones have seen me through many a dark,lonely night :D and I would never leave em/it behind.

Number 2,laptop. And cable,this is 2-in-1,lol. Too many movies I ain't watched yet. :D Plus there's an attachment there too.

Third would be the bag that my cousin @arungaian made me. It has The Mask on the back,handcrafted,because that's how I roll. :D So now you see the bag would be somewhere to put the other stuff. Convenient,right? That's what I said. Plus,it'd probs have my wallet in it already. See that? See that? *taps temple* Genius. :D

4th,my bras. Jus coz underwear isn't as important. And any clothes I could stuff in. Actually clothes would be 5th. Before that I'd grab my poetry books. And my pretty unused notebooks. Am I the only one who does that? Just collect stationary because you can,right now you're using notebooks you've been waiting to use for 2 and a half years? No? Ok. :o)

What'd you carry?


Tuesday, February 15, 2011

A night in the life of...

I'm about to reveal a secret about me real quick. It's not significant if you don't know me and you're not trying to get it my pants though. Although if you're reading my blog for tips on how to get with me,you need a lot more help than you think you do. Especially if you bypassed the whole Mr. M bit. Lol. So anyway. One of the (few :D) things I look for in a man is consistency. Like,dude can halla at you in the club,but if he don't call back,don't mean sh**. (say in black American accent,preferably Monique or Sommore) Same if he sees you around school/work all the time,always up in your grill (/work cubicle :D) talking that we-should-do-coffee thing and never once asking for your number. Dude wants to chill with you but he don't know your last name and ain't tryna figure it out? Please. Those cats are never genuine,but it makes it easier for me to sort through the chaff. He's...wait for it...just not that into you.

Then there's the dudes who just don't know what they want. They dunno if they want a jump-off,clande,relationship,bootybuddy,moviemate,soccersister...they jus don't know. The reason they're giving mixed signals is because they don't know what they want...and they're just not that into you.

Now the dudes I really have respect for,are the consistent ones. He can be like,yeah,so I think you're fine,and we should hook up. Which is dudespeak for I can lay pipe and you look like you need a plumber so I'ma halla...then he hallas! Beautiful. So y'all start talking,then the texts get explicit,etc,then he declares outright what he wants? Beautiful,coz you wanted the same thing. Or the dudes who are like so I think you're interesting,let's do drinks...which is dudespeak for you cute,and this could be more than a sidechick thing but I'm definitely on the lookout for any additional benefits I might accrue...yeah. Then he says,so I'm looking for a relationship. BAM! You know from the onset exactly what you want,what he wants,and it's beautiful. And I LOVE them dudes who don't even try to get your number because they KNOW they're not gonna use it. :o) Honesty. Beautiful. Basically when a man is not consistent,I assume he's not serious about...anything.

So I'm chilling at the digz watching standup,and Shark calls. Haven't talked to him in like 2,3 weeks,he's been quiet text-wise,ie in tSN speak,in possession of no ulterior motives and/or consistency. I'm like SUP? He goes come outside we go for a walk. It's 9pm. I'm like...ok. So I get out and he won't hug me because he's just come from gyming and he's he's in those sleeveless muscle shirt thingies that just show all forms of cleavage that men can possess,you know? And...ok before I digress. Anyway. So we're talking about random-yet-slightly-flirtatious stuff,and then he goes,yeah well,I've never hidden what I'm about. You know I'm up to evil. You know what I want. I gave this dude a side-eye like yeah,I know,it ain't happening,but hehe,that uncomfortable yet thoroughly amused laughter? Yeah. So then he goes si you come sleepover? I burst out laughing,and I'm like so I'll tell Mr. M what? He shrugs his (beautifully muscled) shoulders and says,he doesn't have to know. I laugh again because I know he's serious and I'm trying to make him see how preposterous that notion is. So I manage to laugh it off,he walks me back to my gate and says talk to you later.

The advisable thing would be to stay away from Shark,right?


Monday, February 14, 2011

Just a thought...

Ain't that just the way that life goes down? Moving way too fast,or much too slow.

Several things are going on in my life right now. But in the madness,I've crafted a method,a routine that works for me. This often results in complacency-or simply,just comfort. I'm comfortable where I'm at. I'm grateful that it's not worse; I aspire for it to be better,for me and those around me who I love,and even those I don't. I have made moves in order to make it so. And yet,because life is life,things change. Such is life. But still I feel a gut-wrenching feeling everytime I consider the thought of change having to occur. When is it ok? Can it ever be ok? When is it time to move on? Must it always be necessary? Can humanity somehow craft our genes to expect it,accept it,deflect it?

The most painful changes for me are those that have to be made to events/things/flaws that have been going on for the longest time. Especially those within yourself. Like say,cutting your hair. :D I'm struggling with a change I may have to make now,and often I wonder why this change must be made,if indeed at all,and why it is not possible for all of us to just get along so I don't have to.



Sunday, February 13, 2011

Things that go bump in the night. Rated,I hope you're grown. :D

They say once you go black,you never go back. Wonder what else that applies to? In accordance to manly preferences,once you go stacked,you never go flat/back? And for the ladies,once you go...batt? I speak not of Christian Bale. (I don't ever do that,except to bemoan and bitch about his terrible portrayal of a legacy. Sigh. SMH,Christian. S. M. H.)

@queenmoraa thought it would be funny to get a friend of mine (who will remain unnamed because she's into sijui hiding her identity sijui oh I already make her look bad in public. We'll call her V...for obvious reasons. Which you will see...) a little friend: a vibrator. ( This is,according to @theekimutai,probably one of the greatest competitors for The Quest to Render the Male Species Irrelevant and therefore create an Amazon Women Race. Ok,maybe not in those words exactly. Anyway. So we examined it one day. It's big. And purple. (even with those the world-wide obsession with the colour purple has not been left behind) And has settings on it that make multi-tasking look like a walk in the park. A small park. With ice-cream every 5 metres and Louis Armstrong playing in the background. Ie Disney. :D

My niece at some point gave V gold Magnum condoms. Just because sharing is caring. She put them in her underwear drawer,along with her new can-never-be-described-as-little friend. To cut a long (HAHA!) story short, her mom found it.


*enter wailing and gnashing of teeth* the SHAME! The MORTIFICATION!! As IN??? What the hell are you supposed to do when your MOTHER finds your (large) toys?? (Maybe @Reumac can answer that) How do you even continue to coexist without spontaneous combustion occurring every time she looks at you? Maybe I'm just thinking about how MY mom'd react. *shiver* Hers,checked out the toy,and waited for her to get home. Then took her to the The Council of The Aunties for a good talking-to.

Apparently vibrators ruin you for anyone else. After seeing that one,I can believe it. Or? Are they like porn,where the real thing is always better? Will V ever find good loving and/or her dignity again? *runs and hides...then comes back because the post isn't over* Can they please,for the love of...V, :D get someone else to do Batman? Do your chain hang low?


Ps. My band'll be performing at a gig on the 26th. Stay tuned for more details. I wanna throw in another V joke here,but I'm out. Sigh. :D I LOVE YOU,V! :D

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Maybe someone should become Batman.

1 in every 3 men in South Africa has admitted to having raped a woman. One. In every THREE. So how about the ones who didn't admit it? I don't understand a society where rape is common. I don't want to live there either.

I have a preoccupation with the safety of my money-maker. In addition to that,I am literally allergic to pain. I want to do my Masters in Literature,but I can't figure out where to do it. (South Africa,at this point,is pretty much out) But only because I need to feel safe wherever I am. I barely feel safe in Nairobi. (my friend got shot at the other day-refer to Fears that Bind-and the chemist 50m away just got robbed) I am earnestly looking for somewhere where I can feel safe. Or at the very least,where the system works,and 911 is not a number you call on a prank-calling sleepover night.

Then again,is anyone really safe,and is this ever dependent on where you live? I think so. If you believe in a supernatural power,safety is from above. But,that supernatural power has granted you the blessing of logic. You're not about to go live in a well-known gangster/drug neighbourhood. You are not Mr. T. This is not a drill. It's just I want my chances of,you know,death,to be reduced,a bit,regardless of the fact that I could die from a brain aneurysm in a fortified castle completely distanced from civilization as well as a random shoot out on the street. Utumishi kwa wote. Yeah right.

What do you think? Where do you feel safe? Is there any point of 'safe' neighbourhoods and working police? Everybody needs good neighbours. AND WHERE DO I MOVE TO?...I'm calm.


Monday, February 7, 2011

Meeting the in-laws.

I introduce Mr. M to family members for fun. It amuses me to watch him scared. I know,I know. (favorite sadist joke:
Masochist: Hurt me.
Sadist: No.
:D :D ) But karma likes to laugh at me sometimes. So the other day I tell him to come over to chill with my cousins and their kid-who,by the way,just serves to remind me why it is again that I don't want kids. We went to Maasai market,as tourists will often want to do,then came back home. Unbeknownst to us (DENDENDEEEEN),the Father Figure was rapidly making his way home. Maybe not intentionally,though. Maybe not even rapidly. I was ok with it though,because FF seldom cares about or notices things that do not directly affect him.

So my uncle comes with his wife. We walk in and my uncle gives him the third degree (I don't know why,seeing as I introduced him as my FRIEND. So maybe he sees through my BS. Smells the same,I guess.),starting with 'What church do you go to?' and 'Where did you meet my mother?' (I'm named after my grandma)-to which he said-LOL-in town,at chess club. PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Mr. M does not play chess,nor did we meet in town,but he couldn't very well say we met at the club,I was in a relationship and she was making out with an acquaintance,now could he? Though,that would've been classic. :D

So we sit down,drinks nininini,then FF (Father Figure) walks in. Pays minimum attention to the random dude in the digz (Mr. M),offers him a cursory greeting and goes about the business of entertaining. As we're escorting kina my uncle outside, FF goes 'Who's that?' I swallow,trying to play it cool,I'm a grown-ass woman,etc,so I say 'Oh,that's my friend Mr. M.' He goes,'Why were you sitting next to him the whole time?' 'Um...I was sitting next to Aunty,not him.' 'You clearly don't know how to act in front of your elders.' At which point I saw red,because...I mean...REALLY? LOL. Then came 'Why aren't you in the kitchen making dinner?' You must understand,I'm NEVER in the kitchen. And how are those two even related?? At this point I chalked it up to FF is clearly a Man U fan and could sense that they were about to be trounced by the - *trying to smother laughter,not succeeding* - Wolves,and was thus spouting gibberish to his undeserving,angelic daughter.

I don't care about football. But I need SOMETHING to explain his talking crazy. Moral of the story? BS is only useful when it's not being flung at you. And even then,there are RULES,damnit. (refer to previous post)


Saturday, February 5, 2011

The do-do's of doodoo.

1. Always check that there's tissue in the loo BEFORE you decide to do a number 2. #wisdominrhyme #jussayin :D

2. Always wait for at least 10 minutes after someone has offloaded before you go in for your turn. The seat is less warm - and thus less gross.

3. Don't get those annoyingly cloying air fresheners that just clog your nose up or make it run after the fact. Especially,don't spray it in the lav right before the guests show up,because even if you haven't just done a doodoo,it does look and smell like you did - and are trying to cover it up. AIN'T NO SHAME IN THE DOODOO GAME. :D

4. For Pete's sake,look behind you when you leave and do damage control if necessary.

5. Do drink lots of water to facilitate an easier transfer (LOL). Or not. I dunno.

6. Y'all have lots of babies to have a deeper understanding of our course material. Exes too.

7. Whistle while you work. Ha! Not really. What I meant to say is,maybe you shouldn't introduce your boyfriend to your dad,because that may land you in deep,deep doodoo. Next post...


Check out

Friday, February 4, 2011

What happened after that.

I had the veggie burger. It's been a minute. I'm thinking of going to the Aaron Jazz thingy. I thought it had passed,Mr. M said it's tomorrow,but Twitter says it was yesterday...#confusion.

So I DID end up kinda out yesternight,with my cousin from Egypt. They (him,his wife and his kid) were visiting my uncle but when the riots started,they had to leave. Crazy,huh? Apparently they've burnt every single supermarket. (before or after curfew? Hehe) They're evacuating folks. And it started as a joke. Some joke. #twitter #feb28

Anyway. So we ended up at karaoke at Blix,which is hosted by a chick who looks oh so familiar. The watchie almost didn't let us in. Ati because drinking hours are over. Clearly,it's been a minute since I was out. Do Kenyan bars actually follow that rule?

Quote of the night was Idols is for the sober. Karaoke is for the drunk. The people going up were really sticking to that mantra,including my cousins. (@arungaian's first time on a mic :o) Reasons I wasn't singing. But at some point,I decided to go sing Killing me softly. Get this...they didn't have it! How do you NOT have KILLING ME SOFTLY,only THE greatest karaoke song of all time? For SHAME.

So at some point during the night,I notice that the bartender is kinda cute. (it was a she :o) And the top and jeans she was wearing fit just right. Good things. I woulda maybe made a move. Maybe. But I was being an Idols contestant,so...actually I take that back. I don't need liquid courage. But a lil courage would've been good too. And Mr. M supports my...superstar ambitions. :D

The night ended with Boondocks jokes about anal rape in prison in the car. I love my family. :o) Boondocks makes me laugh at things I really shouldn't be laughing at. But,I mean, I likes it. And I wants it. And we can do this the easy way,or the hard way.



Thursday, February 3, 2011

I'm a little teapot, short and stout...

I may have to leave work early today. I am bored. This is because I have been actually working. Wow. People with 'real' 9-5 jobs must be mad. Explains a lot.

Today's post is about the randm things in my head.
1. Dude. I'ma go all LaKwisha on you real quick. They made the Green Lantern white. Really? He was the last black (relevant-no one counts Froman or whatever his name was froom The Incredibles) superhero. We don't even have a black main love interest. Ryan Reynolds is fine and everything, but...really?

2. Speaking of main love interests. I have a problem with all of them. What happened to spine? Backbone? Brains? I was happy in Batman when Maggie Gyllenhall died. Not because she didn't impress me (she didn't) but also because it's nice when a film goes out of the norm (a la Megamind). The leading ladies are always simpering, weak, moderately witty but inevitably, bleagh. Is this who our - sorry, your - children are supposed to become?

3. Work. Oh my goodness. I should get married or something. This rat race thing is not for me. And there're people in the office having a meeting right in front of me and I can't multitask to save anyone's life, so this is...this is difficult.

4. Ah, Facebook quizzes. They still excite me. which Desperate Housewives Character are you?(I'm Susan. I always knew that. Except for the child part. Who has season 7?)

5. Should I go out today? I have work tomorrow...

6. Meeting still going on. Meeting @JnttNemo, @Nigmwa and @chichikimani later. Haven't had lunch...what'm I gonna order?

Wow. I'm going to stop now.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

The things we do for love aka Cliches and neo-colonialism

When I was a child, I attended international schools and thus acquired a barely discernible accent. It was enough to make people in my primary school shun me (kids are so mean. Reasons I'm not having any) and my cousin @abbakidenda to this day still thinks I'm a fake who was being pretentious. *shrug* Such is life. Anyhue, once in a while it comes back in full swing (8-4-4 boarding school eroded it significantly), when I'm talking to childhood friends or in an environment where I need to (you know, if you're at a place where people can't understand what you're saying unless you say woder instead of water). This often makes me feel fake, regardless of the fact that this is how I learnt to speak. Damn you, @abbakidenda.

Mr. M consistently makes fun of my so-called accent. Why do Kenyans do this? we find anyone who speaks differently from us highly amusing, especially shrubs. Entire empires of comedy have been built (and crumbled) on this one joke alone. You know how Black Americans comedians can't not make a white joke? Kenyan comedians can't not make a tribe joke. And a lot of the time, it's a shrub one.

Mr. M and I walked into the Mac Shop at Sarit on a lark. He was like Ebu go ask the prices and stuff, but do it with an accent. I, still on said lark, agreed to do so. I laid on a thick Valley Girl accent over my typical Kenyan one. The dude immediately hopped to it and went out of his way to show me evrything...and ignored Mr. M. LOL. Am I the only one who finds it amusing that Kenyans STILL act like this? It's amusing, and sad. The Other Boyfriend was telling me about how they refused to let a minister into a hotel at the coast, ati that day they weren't allowed to let 'Waafrika' in. So now he's suing them.

Really, Kenya? REALLY? SMH. *shrug* Can I have some woder?