Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Delivery anyone?

A client calls me. I inform him that the work is done and he should hear from me by this Friday. The dude gets excited, as he rightly should be, if I may say so. I can smugly say we managed what had appeared impossible at first.

So, he then says that he must get me a gift and asks, "You delivered, right?"

And I am thinking delivered here means delivered the contract though I am slightly puzzled. Then he clarifies, "A boy or a gal?"


I am still laughing. In fact, I think I cracked a rib.

The only way I'm getting a brat will be a real delivery - via stork. Yep. Now, don't get me wrong. Brats are cute provided they belong to a relative or if not, they have a home to go back to and it aint mine. I think about it and the cruncher is that here's some individual who dares to try and squeeze through a path where the first time a tampon tried making headway, the exercise was aborted with the utter convintion that the path was blocked from lack of use...tsk!

In summary - wah! Let me go back to laughing.

Note to self: Call back client tomorrow and apologise for laughing off and hanging up without a further word!

And today, here's another one my funny bone:

The big game hunter walked in the bar and bragged to everyone about his hunting skills. The man was undoubtedly a good shot and no one would dispute that. Then he said that they could blindfold him and he would recognize any animal's skin from its feel and, if he could locate the bullet hole, he would even tell them what caliber the bullet was that killed the animal. The hunter said that he was willing to prove it if they would put up the drinks. So the bet was on.

They blindfolded him carefully and took him to his first animal skin. After feeling it for a few moments, he announced "Bear." Then he felt the bullet hole and declared, "Shot with a .308 rifle." He was right. They brought him another skin from someone's car trunk. He took a bit longer this time and then said, "Elk. Shot with a 7mm Mag rifle. He was right again. Through the night, he proved his skills again and again, every time against a round of drinks.

Finally he staggered home, drunk out of his mind and went to sleep. The next morning he got up and saw in the mirror that he had one huge black eye. He said to his wife, "I know I was drunk last night, but not drunk enough to get in a fight and not remember it. Where did I get this black eye?"

His wife angrily replied, "I gave it to you. You got into bed, put your hand down my panties, fiddled around a bit and then loudly yelled, "Skunk. killed with an axe."

Sunday, October 29, 2006

We are Depressed / Estatic


Version A: I have had a bad day - Singing "Had a bad day again...."

First it’s a Monday morning. She usually truddles in late and annoyed for some reason on Monday mornings – more than other mornings.

So she walks in. Expects me to get turned on at the click of a button. Well, not today missy. Go have your fun elsewhere.

I am ill. No amount of switching, tweaking, tugging, stroking is going to arouse me. Cant you go one day without any action, sheesh! She’s busy poking, stroking, caressing, massaging, tapping – the woman could go on forever. But I am out cold. Not going to respond. And that’s that. No uh! I tell her I am sick.

She is not amused.

This is not going very well. I try to tell her, “Ichiena, I am ill. I cant get up today. Not today. Just let me be”. For some reason, she gets very worked up. Seems to think I am teasing her!! Talk about misreading! She goes back into poke mode. I think she will get violent….help!!

Then. Suddenly. She stops. She picks the phone and calls Dr Kownothing. Not Dr Knownothing! Cant I just sleep it off. Let me tell you, Dr Knownothing is the kind of Dr who in the past I have walked in with a virus and has instead checked for tonsillitis and ended up doing a hysterectomy. You get the picture.

So he walks in a few hours later and pokes all over the place (this is so embarrassing!) and I hear him informing Ichiena, “There’s something wrong with your computer”. Give Us Strenth Yee Gawds. Isn’t that what I was telling her all along – if someone will pay attention, I am ill!! And if you care to ask, I will let you know exactly what’s wrong with me. But Ichiena is mad – must be PMS and so I am unceremoneously bundled out.

Dr. Knownothing is probably going to carry out a lobotomy this time. Life will never be the same.

I have had a bad day.

Version 2: I have had a bad day - Singing "Just another manic Monday!...."

I wake up disbelieving I have to go to the office.
Go to shower and guess what? H2O has desserted the building. Again.

This has been going on for a while now - we get water then we don’ for weeks (considering what to do with the landlord - start deducting cost of buying water from rent and see whether that will light a fire under him. Thiing is the water tends to disappear and reappear around end month....mhmmmm)

Anyway, get to the office. Drowsy and tired and in no mood to work - It is Monday after all and I have earned the right not to be cheerful. I get to my desk. Organise work to do - the rather high pile. Switch my computer on.



The machine looks back at me - probably sniggering, the little twit! - and nothing. A blank screen with several lines of incomprehensive script (i interpreted it into the comp's version of "Nya nya nya boo boo"). I take a deep breath and cold boot.

I then used several minutes immediately thereafter to test all the keys on the keyboard (you know there's a key with three signs on it? How do you get to use the third one?). Aaaah, getting somewhere finally....then Nya nya nya boo boo! So, i kicked, bit, tweaked, twisted, smashed, crashed (at least I did in my mind). But nothing. Just, nya nya nya boo boo.

Giving up (I HATE giving up)...I call support and guess what - they came in three hours later - at 11am. That's half the morning gone which was spent pretending to look busy (ok I always pretend to look busy but at least I usually have a choice!).

The IT dude comes in. Checks out the comp. Asks me if I switched on correctly (duh) then after five minutes makes the great announcement that my comp is not ok (Doubly DUH!UH!). The he says he has to carry it off to the workshop (this is what I figure, (a) these guys charge more for offsite than onsite jobs hence their love for this option (b) they have no idea what is wrong with the comp and would rather do the testing 1-2-3 away from prying eyes (c) they have no idea what is wrong and are taking it to the “real unidentified experts” to check them out).

Either way, it was 11.30am and I have no comp. Tomorrow’s a holiday so work needs to be done yesterday. Clients are calling and saying, “Why haven’t you responded to my mail” – well missy, I would if I could read it in the first place!

So I spent the day normading – basically moving from one station to another whenever the owner goes out to pee or something and the whole thing sucks. (At one point I was tempted to put laxative in someone’s tea so I could have a machine for the rest of the afternoon).

Now I have carried work home so that I can hopefully get something done before Wednesday. The IT dude says it’s sorted and I should have my comp back by Wednesday morning.

I had a bad day today.

It is a holiday….. It is a holiday…… It is a holiday.……

Perhaps if I chant that continuously I will not have to go to job 2. At least that’s what I thought.

It. Did. Not. Work.

One good thing though for the day. I finally managed to go shopping for veggies so the Usurpers (my 5 (yep, FIVE – what were they thinking….) siblings are the Usurpers because they all eventually took my role of fave babe) will not starve to death.

(Note to self: Need to “alert” the Fockers so that I earn a browny point, hehehe….)

(NB: I sincerely think those dudes with huge gunias on their backs derive some perverse pleasure pushing you with the gunias in the market place).

Back to work. No computer. ‘Nough said.

Good thing though – evening tea with 5In and tea with him is always an uplifter. Having male friends (hell, even relas!) is a hustle at times but some are unbelievable. Thank you God for putting people like 5In in my life.

And I cooked! Ati gathering up tattered illusions of domestication. And no, I can proudly say Usurper2 did not die from food poisoning. Usurper2 was pleasantly surprised actually – ok! Ok! It was more of shock. Hehe.

Back to work 1 and still no computer???

Let’s say I brought out the big guns – yaani, cleared all arsenal. To cut a long story full of expletives (sp?) my computer, poor baby, was back by 2.30pm. They removed the scanner card. Did not replace it. Said that it was interfering with the startup (so, why not replace it with another one because I have a scanner on my desk and do the bulk of scanning in the office!!)

And I had emails dating back to last week to start working on! Yaani, I earned my salary twice over on Thursday alone. Still managed to get to another evening meeting, which went well. I am still smiling. And got home and cooked. Twice in a row….this one’s for the Guinness Book I tell you.

It’s Friday. It’s Friday.

Aint nothing bringing me down. (With the exception of the workload, phew!)

So to top it all, and cap the mad week, I went to shake my…..(was about to say butt, but (All Pun Intended) I discovered I have no butt. I have a derrière – you know like the majority jungu ones. Small. Now, there are some mamas with asses and butts out there. Real sienda as one Martian puts it. Yaani those mamas just stand and twitch kidogo and there’s palpable movement in the entire nether-region. Me I have to sway, nay, swing vigorously from side to side, front to back, round, up and down, and break a sweat while at it. Then, only THEN do you go, “Oh, Ichiena is trying to pull that lingala move”).

But Ramogi night was da bomb (there goes my age rearing it’s wrinkled neck – what’s the modern expression? Phat?) Ate tilapia, sweet potato and uji. Remember my prowess (or lack thereof) in the kitchen? I enjoyed the meal – the only survivor being the fish head. I also realized I enjoy Tony Nyadundo, now when Focker1 puts on his CD I’ll actually hum along. The dude is amazing though, almost an entire CD with the SAME beat. Only the words change and you thought akina Flexx, Jua Kali and crew are vulgar. You should listen to the modern “zilizopendwas”.

Clearly, Friday made up for a thankless week.

PS: I did not cook. Usurper2 knows the directions to the kitchen.

Oh, Ichiena and plans. Ati I made plans for the day. When will I ever learn that these never work? Got up nice and early and was in Westlands Sarit by 845am (the roads were so clear I found myself wondering if I had slept through to Sunday!) paid my elec bills and humming, happy and chirpy that I did get up despite a late night out.

Then drama starts. I got to my ATM and it spat out my card, ati out of order (Is there a system banks can use to alert clients of such before you go all the way out of town to get money only to find a spitting machine!). So, plans had to change. Oh well, still early. Just got to town instead and get cash and finish everything in town instead. Mind you I am lugging a huge poster for this event I meant to be at by latest 930am.

So, it’s now 9am and I am in town (traffic was really light – so now I was checking if there had been a coup or something overnight). ATM tells me that I have no money. WAIT!! No money! I distinctly recall depositing a cheque and I am sure I was sober and awake when I did it. So I walk into the bank and let’s just say that it turns out that the bank is aware of the faulty ATM (apparently it’s been dead since Thursday and they still haven’t even put up a notice) and second, all the problems are because someone forgot. FORGOT. Someone forgot to authorize the transfer into my account. You know when you are so annoyed mpaka you are deflated. I was that then some. I smiled (I cannot believe it) and said, “It’s ok. You are only human”. In retrospect, I think I had exhausted my expletives with the comp dudes on Thursday so there was none to spare for the banker. I got my cash and did half of what I was supposed to run. By the time I got to my event, it was 1130ish. Half a morning wasted because of someone else’s incompetence.

Event was lovely. Well attended and the kids. Kids are so artistic. Could you draw KICC in class 3? My memory of Art was sticking my hand in a plate of paint and plastering it on a paper AFTER I had plastered half my classmates…hehehe…Craft was going to the local carpenter and convincing him to make a stool, sticking my name on it and presenting it in class. Would someone tell me why I was forced to make a stool in primary school? Or shona a lapbag?

All syked up. I need to go marathoning. After I got in yesterday, I slept. Promptly at 5pm. I was knackered. I did get up for a snack at 130am I think. Even caught a movie and went back to sleep. Up again bright and early at 6am. Must not be late. Slight headache, wooziness but that’s probably just from too much sleep. Showered. Dressed. Took breakfast.

And threw up.

I listen to my body. So, (Headache + Wooziness + Throwing up) – (Alcohol + Drugs ) + Enough Sleep + Enough Food = I am ill.

So. Here I am. In my house. I cannot sleep. Dressed for the marathon – I still have the t-shirt on. Not marathoning. But blogging.

We are depressed/estatic.

Have a happy week y’all.

At which point I must say:
1. Oh yee harassers, you know yourself, I hope you are satisfied, nay, gorged on this loooooooong one.
2. If you read to this point and you are not one of the harassers, leave a postal address on which I can send you a book I recently read, “Time Management”…LOL!

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Naivety is

…thinking that your blog is your space
…thinking that you own your space
…thinking that this is one space no one can invade
…thinking that noone, and I repeat, noone will know who you are!

Reality is…..
…receiving several comments on blogs that are uncommentworthy (a pal’s word – methinks they just jealous!!)
…receiving reminders that you need to update your blog (what is updating a blog – typing a new entry or refreshing i.e. reblogging a refreshed version of an old blog e.g. with new terminology such as dad becomes buda (now you know how old I really am….woi, I digress))
…getting email messages threatening (no longer reminding) you to update your blog
…realizing that everyone you know now knows your blog.

Talk about nipping the weed before the seed germinates! Sigh! Now all those tales will remain hidden – yes, you. You know yourself. I am not, will not reveal anything! Uh uh! Nimekataa sasa. You characters have shtuad me back into my shell or tank as someone so “nicely” put it. Ati I am built like a tank…was that a figure of speech ama a comment on my physical attributes or lack thereof…mhmmm…..

Now, with that set aside, I had a lovely holiday. And I have aching neck muscles to prove it. This was the weekend where this character went arocking and what arocking it was. Exercised some long neglected neck muscles. Methinks dance music is under-played in Kenya. We get the same old hip hop, local and dancehall music everywhere you go. I aint complaining, I love dancing no matter what. Lakini when you put something rare like techno, chill and real dance music I go ballistic. So Pavement rocked.

After midnight that is. The jury’s still out on the “live” band pre-midnight. We are not sure whether they were live ama we have professional lip synchers on prowl. I wasn’t too sure myself. At one point they appeared to be doing the real thing then the next they had no life in them – yaani it just looked “not right”, if you know what I mean. Anyway, the jury is still out on that one.

Now, the comments to my last post all got me so thinking. What if that story had several endings…so here’s what I have thought up for the past week whenever I had a sudden urge to chew my bosses’ heads….. slowly ….. one after the other….like chicken bones….tsk. I am so glad tomorrow’s a one day “week”.

So, back to that story.

If we were 12 years old, this is how it would end:

Her Version:
The girl said, “NO”.

And her true prince came up on a bright white horse – no, a (what are those horse thingis that have a horn? Unicorn? That one) and with one swing of his great sharp glinting sword lopped off the guy’s head revealing his true identity. He was not a real man because out of his neck came a huge ogre who on realizing that he had been defeated, shuffled about, sniffled and said,

“Sire! My lady! I beg thy forgiveness. Twasn’t my intention to antagonize thee...”

And the Prince, though proud and uncompromising but wise, asked for his lady’s advise and she said,
“Kill him!!!” – ok, no. That’s what I would say. She said, “I hope thou hast learnt thy lesson dear ogre. To set thou free a promise thou willst have to maketh.”

To which the ogre simpered, “Anything my lady. Anything!”

“Promise that thou shallst for the remainder of your existence spend your life doing good.”

To which the ogre responded, “I promise!” and he immediately turned into a wide open meadow filled with flowers and beauterflies and the Prince and his Lady lived in the meadow happily ever after.

The End

His Version
The girl said, “NO”.

And he got into his brand new ferrrari – like the one Schumacher drove at his last F1 and he drove straight into her and crashed her and her Barbie doll and her doll house and left her crying. And he went on living happily thereafter driving hard and crashing into everything and everyone except Superman, Spiderman, Green Lantern, Batman, Transformers……

The End

If we were 22 years old:
Her Version:

The girl said, “NO”.

After all it was only the 12th time he was asking her and she had that cute rudge player who she knew; she just knew that one day he would ask her out. I mean, even though he had a girlfriend now, those can easily be done away with. After all they are not married now, are they? And she knew. She just knew he felt the same way he did about her like she did about him. After all, how is it that he used to be at the same parties she went to – he must be stalking her. He’s just shy.

And you know what? He did, the very next day. He saw her at the Safari 7s and realized that she was the love of his life. His proposal was very romantic and unique – like Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral or …or…or…in Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. And they had this huge wedding with the President invited and aired on telly and all – after all, his uncle is related to the Presidents son-in-law’s househelp! And they lived happily ever after – him making the money and her spending it.

As for the poor slob who dared ask for her hand in marriage, he was the designated driver at their wedding.

His Version:
The girl said, “NO”.

And the guy thought, “Oh well. At least now my having cheated on you with your more interesting best friend can never be an issue.” And he went on to become popular and a super stud and all the Ms Worlds, Ms Kenya, Ms Universe, Ms Malaika, Ms Tourism, Ms Nairobi and even Ms Blog knew him and all bouncers at the best clubs let him in without a hustle. And all cabdrivers in Nai knew him by name (and more importantly knew the directions to his digz for those nights when speech failed him). He started his own company by 30 years old and was such a success that he hobnobbed with the cream of society and when it came to settling down, he did it for all the right reasons – business - and settled for Ms. Gates.

They had two kids, he owned half of Microsoft Extreme (still in production) and they lived happily ever after on the island that good old Bill had created just for them.

As for that girl, well….word has it that she’s a regular at a certain street in Nai, in particular from 9pmish. Truly. His best friend told him that a friend of a friend of a friend spotted here there. Several times. And she has now bleached her face. And wears a pink wig. But it’s her alright. It’s her. This friend of a friend of a friend of his best friend can swear by it.

The End

I am now enjoying this. Mhmmm…think I’ll do continuation at 32 and 42. Now, to what I really meant to do today i.e. switch to blogger beta.

Night night!

Friday, October 13, 2006

Oh dear...

What have I gone and done now. Me? Start a blog? To what end? I have this annoying (yes, it annoys me to no end. Don't even get me started on the effect on others....tsk tsk) habit of jumping all over the place. Getting interested in one thing, getting good and comfy in it then, see ya later alligator!

I am hoping that I wont do the same thing to this. No, this one I hope to nurture. Like in Harry Potter, old Dumbledore (is it?) has that bowl where he stores his thoughts and memories, collection of moments so that he can go back and retrieve them, relieve them, relish them whenever, wherever and howsoever he wants. I'm gonna play Dumbledore and this blog is my pensieve.


Well, this pensieve is going to be full of memories of laughter. And what better one to start with than this little gem that kills me no matter how many times I hear it. Laughter IS the best medicine.


Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"

The girl said, "NO!"

And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing, hunting and played golf a lot. He had all the best electronic equipment, the fastest cars, boats and motorcycles. He drank beer whenever he wanted.


Wednesday, October 11, 2006

First time

Hi there.

This is my first time.

First time opening a blog.

First time typing up a post.

First time daring to go out into the big big blogworld.

Daring to test the waters.




The pull of the unknown.

Will this be the first and last?

Will I become a regular? An addict?

What will I post?

Will I be popular (let's face it, a little popularity NEVER hurt)

Or I'll come and go unnoticed.

Will I make friends, enemies?

Will I be annoying, refreshing, funny, sad, deep (fat chance), creative?

Eeeish! Heck with all the will I, will I.

Only one way to find out!