For most people, the word Monday is a top contender for the most hated word. I’m no exception. Many thought Mondays could stop being hell days after clearing school. They get worse. We should all unite and abolish it, better yet, convert it into a weekend. That will mean that Tuesday will turn into another loathed Monday. I’m just trying to get the Monday blues out of my system. I wish for a holiday falling on a Monday this year. A quick check on my calendar yields nothing. Men, weekends are always short, shorter than Mr. Sang.
This weekend saw me take on a twitter tirade with @Miz_Noelle. I was in fact complaining why she had taken such a long time to post something on her blog. You remember the people I was talking about the other time? The ones who have mastered all the kama sutra styles of having long, sensual, serious sex with words? She belongs to that group. Reading her blog posts is tantamount to watching porn, this time there is no mail man/plumber/sister’s hot friend or mum/horny boss. It’s just her and her penis. If a pen was a penis then well, she must be having a very um, huge, long winding, hard hell of a Thika road. You can prove it here. I kinda felt great when she replied with an assurance of a one in the near future. I’m glad there is nobody putting me in such a spotlight for lack of a post during my occasional submergence into a literal ocean of wilderness. Well, almost nobody except @curtis_tosh who claims that he invested 10 Mango trees in this shamba. smh. Nigger you chose the wrong shamba.
On Saturday the national TV stations outmuscled each other in broadcasting Njenga Karume’s burial service which turned out to be the longest in this side of the Sahara. I kinda felt it was no big deal. Given all the political and religious leaders were present, they were justified. A bomb could be more warranted. Moi decided to endorse Ukenyatta for presidency. There is this thing with associating with losers. I will not say much about politics since Kenya has no politician meriting a mention, maybe Martha karua. That’s why that bomb was appropriate. Even the POA party flag bearer, Mr. Raph Tuju is with skeletons in the closet in the name of the wife+bodyguard+wife’sfriend+sex+kidnap+police. Well this is what I read somewhere on the internets. I hope you read it too. Otherwise I’d suggest you move out of rongai. Kenya is fucked up all around, in all sectors. The best thing to do is to learn to keep a straight face with all the sex sounds all around us.
Over the weekend I also watched the movie ‘the girl with a dragon tattoo’. It left a stain on me. I’m yet to figure out what it is. Maybe it is the situation I was in when watching it – Bored on a Saturday evening after Liverpool let Arsenal win courtesy of a great Van Pussy Persie volley. Maybe it is the girl with a dragon tattoo. May be it is her strong tenacity in life, her awesome retribution for her rapist. Maybe it is because I had expected an ass kicking, bone breaking ninja girl, instead a sweet, massively pierced, chain smoking, sex loving, computer geek turned up. Maybe it is mystery that was being unfolded bit by bit. If you have watched it please tell me what it is. If you haven’t, go ahead and watch it, thank me later for 2 hours 39 minutes of goodness.
That’s all for now.
Boom box playlist:
Breakeven – The Script.
