O'er the weekend...

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.

Look! I got flowers!

Men love things that help them exaggerate their egos. That might be the reason behind love for sport, politics, cars and well, having sex with several women. A man believes that if his team wins a match, his balls gets ISO certified that they have grown bigger than the man whose team lost even if all he did was to shout hoarse in a bar in Kenya while the match is played in England. Women do not seem to understand the whole football craze. The truth is that there are things either sexes do not understand of the other.

This is valentine season. There are many theories that have been put across to explain the origin of this valentine. The one that holds water is that, it is the day set aside by some single, desperate and sex deprived person, very many years ago, to hurt men who are engaged, happy and sexually active by hurting their wallets and to some extent their egos.

I have no beef with that guy because Valentines Day has not really gotten to hear the town whence my wallet hails from. But going by the talk around town, very many men seem to like other days slightly more than this day. Gone are the days when men used to rely on Valentine’s Day to have sex. Nowadays it is one of those days when men are probably likely to sleep alone courtesy of forgetting to end with ‘I love you’ in the note accompanying a humongous bouquet of flowers he took in person to her office during the day.

I can bend my conservative stance on the whole idea of love and romance to do several things but one. Don’t count on me to bring them flowers to where you work. That is very lame and uncomfortable for me. Anything romantic that makes uncomfortable while doing is gay on my part. I am not gay. I have never understood the joy accrued from public display of affection for women. Maybe it is the same way women do not get the football story. I thing you are as lame as the red sox and underwear you are wearing if you took flowers to your girlfriend’s office today. I think you are lamer if you cheered with endless ‘awwww’ as the girlfriend received the flowers. I think you are the lamest homo sapien if you are that man in the crowd that is ‘awww-ing’ in the flower giving ceremony. You should probably go back to your desk and reapply make up as you wait to go change your tampon.

My conservative being tells me that such things should be done in private, the way other intimate things are done. Otherwise I expect a guy to have sex in public; probably record it and distribute it among fellow employees. Sex, just like flowers is supposed to enhance the love bonds with each other. Some people argue that the act of showing up with flowers shows how much balls you have and how much love you have for the lady. I say bull shit. Most of those ‘balls’ (to me they are ovaries) hanging with that man have been brought about by guilt or many years of living with the lady. I expect men over 50 or those who slept with the girlfriend’s sister or mother (and now he wants to show he’s changed) to bring you flowers.

I hope you get to understand that this is an apology in advance for my future girlfriend for not giving her flowers in the full glare of the workmates. Love, I have other better ideas lined up. I will not disclose them here because some hungry hyenas will copy them before this day ends.

Boom box playlist:

Ready to start - Arcade fire

Forsaken lands.

      I cross my legs then uncross them. Shift on my seat. Raise my head to stare at the glass walls surrounding the office. A mooted laugh reaches my eardrums. Bitches. A number of Indians pass. Men and women. I look further through the glass walls to the opposite office. More Indians. She rises to sashay across to another desk. Nice ass. She aint Indian. My eyes travel back to the laptop infront of me. I minimize all the open windows-9 of them- I stare at NatBoo. Fuck. Flawless. I reach for a glass of water. I restore the windows. Back to work.

     It’s been ages since I posted. I stopped feeling bad about it. I require a great deal of tractor power to restore this shamba into normal condition. Pressures of work. They are as real as the Hague. I keep my hopes high that someday I shall rise above the writer’s block and post something worth a read.

Boom box playlist:

Chop suey! – System of a Down.

Natb awards 2011..

In the wake of last night's ballon d'Or, it would be prudent to offer awards for the respective movers and shakers in my life in the last year. It is no secret that there is one guy who has swept almost all the categories. He deserves it, coz he is awesome. The winners were selected by a credible panel of eminent persons. That’s all you need to know about them. Without any more jibber jabber, ladies and gentlemen Natb presents the 2011 Natb awards winners’ list….

The I think am big Meech award for being the best blogger in the year

I started this blog in the year 2011 and went all the way to ace it. Being the only blog in my life, it definitely comes out as the undisputed winner in this category. Reports in the media say this blog is dope and soon the police might be on my ass for addiction related cases. Other bloggers are seething with envy as I pile up my empire. Yeah am done chest thumping.

The You will never reap what you sow award for joining the hungry dissatisfied Kenyan workers bandwagon

I got my first job in 2011. That is an automatic qualification to join the group of Kenyans who are always overworked and underpaid. Tuko Wote. That’s the comforting message that is at the doorway. Even the 7 figure earning blokes are members too. Whichever way you look at it you will notice that the income you make for the owner is not reflective of what the owner pays you. After joining this bandwagon is when you notice that prices of commodities move like a clock’s seconds hand as the salary moves as the hour hand.

The dog is now free to eat my books award for finishing campo

I finally cleared the 8-4-4 syllabus this year. What a collective moment of gladness. Though I suggest they revise it to something like 4-4-8. People need to spend more time studying what they will be in future and not cramming how to choose the right answer from the choices given. Plus it could be great to spend more years in campus right?

The Pimping all over the world award for finally visiting Mombasa

They say that you haven’t experienced anything if you have not gone to ‘mambasani’. Just to be clear Voi is not Mombasa (I am not pointing fingers Mesh). They also say kuingia ni rahisi, kutoka ni matanga. I have no clue what that means. You have not experienced night life if you haven’t been to Mtwapa. I deserve the award for accomplishing all these plus others which are not included in the award specifications. The first time I went there was during the campus ‘academic’ tour. Mad fun. The second was later when I went to live there. The coastal accent is still in my ranks. 

The Hooligan award for participating in a hooligan AFC/Gor match

For the first time I got to attend a derby between these teams. It was a hell of an experience. People can really get crazy. Being the kalonzo that day, I sat on the afc side in the first half and proceeded to the gor side in the second half. Kenyans are really creative in coming up with jeers. It was a hell of an experience.

The We are now independent and ready to marry award for moving into my own New house

Despite the issues that come up with moving out to your own apartment, it is a milestone for every guy. A new house in this context means a room with imaginary walls separating the bedroom, kitchen, wardrobe, sitting room, TV room, gym room, guest room, verandah, weapon room, garage, garden, study room and another extra room that am yet to figure what to do with it. It is working for me. The house chores are not working for me. Anyway it is at the larva stage on the way to being a full house (adult) in terms of furniture, utensils, electronics, weapons and other penthouse equipments. Am hopeful.

The elder of losing stuff award for letting my IDs get lost

This year brought the 10 year old me memories back. That was the first time I went to boarding school. I was a veteran in losing stuff. The more the effort I put in keeping an item, the sooner it got lost. My family and I were literally getting worried. It came to pass. This time I lost my IDs. I should have lost money instead. I am a frustrated human being courtesy of the registrar’s office and my lost sense of custody.

The Kim kerdashian’s marriage award for losing my waiting card

Well, after losing my ID I applied for a new one. A month never ended before I lost the waiting card. *head hung in shame*. The kerdashian marriage lasted longer. I deserve the award. Let me tell you one thing that I have learnt from this…what was that?...ooops! I think I have lost it.

The You never got D’s mathafaka D’s for going late for a CAT

The two most unfocused people in the world (no finger pointing) and I happened to go for a 1.5 hour cat, 1 hour late. It was no big deal, we still passed. I deserve this award. I finished earlier than some of the square heads who were there an hour before. To top that I scored better than some most of them.

The Leave the morphine at my door award for the awesome blog readers who are still here

Sincerely speaking, I never expected to have such a number of page viewership by the end of the year. It is all because of you the reader. This award goes out to all the readers of this blog. I appreciate that. I hope we will be together throughout 2012. Lest, it will rain.

Boom box playlist:

I’m the best – Nicki Minaj