Sunday, October 26, 2014

TV lessons

I had my first TV interview yesterday night and let me tell you something: they never tell you anything before you go on air.

Dude, first, my phone died and I was late and there was traffic so I couldn't find parking so I panicked and parked way too far from the studio and then I panicked even more because no one was watching my car so I was freaking out because someone's laptop was stolen from my car the week before...

So I was a little late (ie 10 minutes as opposed to Kenya late, ie an hour) and I was immediately mic'd and put on air. I was NOT ready. They had not ati told me what to wear, or...what they were going to ask...I didn't have like a dressing room where I could throw a Mariah Carey level bitch fit...nothing, guys!

Anyway so I went on air and I thought it went well. I also thought I looked a smidge nervous but I thought I answered the questions ok and stuff...

Then when I came out...

I was informed that my sweat patches were also very present and answering questions during the interview.
Cue absolute and total mortification and a rabid rewatching of the clip over and over again to figure out how to photoshop that ish AWAY??
That's one thing they don't tell you. That the studio thinks it is a beach and must therefore provide beach-like temperatures (Kenya beach as opposed to everywhere else beach, ie SUPER BEACH) which will then cause you to sweat all over your grey tee and onto screens worldwide.

Whoop! Mummy, my armpits are famous!


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?