Tuesday, February 27, 2007

What could possibly be worse than....

.....having your molar pulled out by a female dentist suffering from PMS?

A wedding. Yep. A wedding, that's what. Especially if you are female. Especially if it's the wedding of a female related to you because your great great great great great grand father and her's wore the same akalas. Especially if her relatives and yours are one and the same. Especially if she is younger than you by a number of years. Especially if you are attending such real or imagined wedding on your own (your handbag or cellphone or sister, cousin, brother, gardener does not count). Especially if you have not stated, are in no danger of stating, might never state the words "I do" while holding someone's hand up in the air (what's up with that?). Especially if all other females in attendance born cirka your year of birth all come endowed with a requisite accessory - a man (qualities are not an issue here. He comes with three legs and you are through).

Oh, there's nothing worse. Yet, while armed with this information, I dared tread where no single woman over 20 should dare venture. Everything was criticised from my bony shoulderblades, my hips or lack thereof, my long claws, my strawlike nywele, my corny feet, my bad skin....and this was before I got to the ceremony! Phew. Talk about being hang to dry. All the "aunts" suddenly become chummy and the entire event becomes Operation-Get-Ichiena-Married. Imagine an aunt popping up with a dude in tow and insisting on introducing you, "Yes, this is Ichiena..mhmmm! She's a qualified XXYY. Goes to church at ABCD. Works for 456." I had an experience where a pals mum came to my office - my office! - with her nephew in tow and insisted that we exchange numbers and promise to call one another. I kid you not. Of course, i always think, if dude is spineless enough to warrant an introduction through an aunt will there be a stiff bone on him?

Anyway, I cut the nonsense short by telling one of the "aunts", who I am certain acquired this title just for this occassion, that I love paka. Now, as to how fast this will get back to my mother.....

In conclusion - anyone i can hire for the next wedding? Males need not apply!

And since this was a wedding post, here are some wedding jokes...hehehe.

The Honeymooners

The nervous young bride became irritated by her husband's lusty advances on their wedding night and reprimanded him severely. "I demand proper manners in bed," she declared, "just as I do at the dinner table."

Amused by his wife's formality, the groom smoothed his rumpled hair and climbed quietly between the sheets. "Is that better?" he asked, with a hint of a smile. "Yes," replied the girl, "much better." "Very good, darling," the husband whispered. "Now would you be so kind as to please pass the cunt."

Ten Husbands, Still A Virgin
A lawyer married a woman who had previously divorced ten husbands. On their wedding night, she told her new husband, "Please be gentle, I'm still a virgin."

"What?" said the puzzled groom. "How can that be if you've been married ten times?"

"Well, Husband #1 was a sales representative; he kept telling me how great it was going to be.

Husband #2 was in software services; he was never really sure how it was supposed to function, but he said he'd look into it and get back to me.

Husband #3 was from field services; he said everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn't get the system up.

Husband #4 was in telemarketing; even though he knew he had the order, he didn't know when he would be able to deliver.

Husband #5 was an engineer; he understood the basic process but wanted three years to research, implement, and design a new state-of-the-art method.

Husband #6 was from finance and administration; he thought he knew how, but he wasn't sure whether it was his job or not.

Husband #7 was in marketing; although he had a nice product, he was never sure how to position it.

Husband #8 was a psychologist; all he ever did was talk about it.

Husband #9 was a gynecologist; all he did was look at it.

Husband #10 was a stamp collector; all he ever did was... God! I miss him! But now that I've married you, I'm really excited!"

"Good," said the new husband, "but, why?"

"You're a lawyer. This time I know I'm gonna get screwed!"

Oh, and finally, I passed by the castle and those pick-up lines reminded me of these put-down ones:

60 Things Not to Say to a Naked Guy

1. I've smoked fatter joints than that.

2. Ahh, it's cute.

3. Who circumcised you?

4. Why don't we just cuddle?

5. You know they have surgery to fix that.

6. It's more fun to look at.

7. Make it dance.

8. You know, there's a tower in Italy like that.

9. Can I paint a smiley face on that?

10. It looks like a night crawler.

11. Wow, and your feet are so big.

12. My last boyfriend was 4'' bigger.

13. It's ok, we'll work around it.

14. Is this a mild or a spicy Slim Jim?

15. Eww, there's an inch worm on your thigh.

16. Will it squeak if I squeeze it?

17. Oh no, a flash headache.

18. (giggle and point)

19. Can I be honest with you?

20. My 8-year-old brother has one like that.

21. Let me go get my tweezers.

22. How sweet, you brought incense.

23. This explains your car.

24. You must be a growing boy.

25. Maybe if we water it, it'll grow.

26. Thanks, I needed a toothpick.

27. Are you one of those pygmies?

28. Have you ever thought of working in a sideshow?

29. Every heard of clearasil?

30. All right, a treasure hunt!

31. I didn't know they came that small.

32. Why is God punishing you?

33. At least this won't take long.

34. I never saw one like that before.

35. What do you call this?

36. But it still works, right?

37. Damn, I hate baby-sitting.

38. It looks so unused.

39. Do you take steroids?

40. I hear excessive masturbation shrinks it.

41. Maybe it looks better in natural light.

42. Why don't we skip right to the cigarettes?

43. Oh, I didn't know you were in an accident.

44. Did you date Lorena Bobbitt?

45. Aww, it's hiding.

46. Are you cold?

47. If you get me real drunk first.

48. Is that an optical illusion?

49. What is that?

50. I'll go get the ketchup for your french fry.

51. Were you neutered?

52. It's a good thing you have so many other talents.

53. Does it come with an air pump?

54. So this is why you're supposed to judge people on personality.

55. Where are the puppet strings?

56. Your big gun is more like a BB gun.

57. Look, it fits my Barbie clothes.

58. Never mind, why bother.

59. Is that a second belly button?

60. Where's the rest of it?

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Bah Humbug!

So it's Vals again. Like I said,

Bah Humbug.

Lakini I have received some gems I must share.

A. A hilarious word of advice

Ladies...... just a piece of advice today. As valentines approaches, please note that there are two people you should NOT fall in love with:-

1. John Githongo - the fellow will tape your whole affair, and release it to the press in pieces.

2. James Kamangu Ndimu - this fellow might come to haunt you 20 years later when you have made it all alone.

B. These are entries to a Washington Post Competition asking for two line rhymes with most romantic first line, but least romantic second line:

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you screwed up my life.

I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.

I thought that I could love no other --
that is until I met your brother.

Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet,
and so are you. But the roses are wilting, the violets are
dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.

I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go to hell."

What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.

C. Then I received these pics! Made my day:

5. Beware what you swear to on the wedding day

4. If taken literally...

3. If we were all truthful...

2. What you will be saying 10 years down the line...

1. And the winner is...

D. And someone who knows how to please a mama..

Cognac laced chocolate people! Getting high under the bosses' nose! A major highlight I dare say.

Saturday, February 10, 2007


Yipeeeeee!!! Off to Naivasha. To go fissss.

I know - it aint no big deal, shouldnt be. But then you have no idea who my galz are. They are specially created I tell you. They are a mad bunch, and woe to the man who dares enter their lair when they are grouped together....mwehehehehehee - they will dissect you papo hapo, by the time you get back to normal life, it will be two months down the line and your boys may still not have ascended back.

OK, they ain't so bad. Lakini...tsk, tsk, tsk!

Anyway! We have finally managed to put something together as a group and we are going to Naivasha. Some come encumbered - can you imagine making plot and you are told, "the beau, baby, bwana, ayah....has to come.", "Overnight! I cant", "I cannot use public means!!", "Do we have a program of activities"(wtf???).

For me who's a get-up-and-go mama, at one point I was sure it aint ever gonna happen (it's been almost 10 long years I tell ya); was pulling my hair out (so now i have a bald spot on the left). Imagine a group of nine mamas - 3 spicy (i.e. the spouses are connected at their hips and are coming along) and 6 kienyeji (i.e. encumberances have been left to take care of the babies, hehehe). And they proceeded to buy keroro directly from KWAL - wholesale I tell ya.

Which is why the fissssssing part. I will probably be fishing mamas out of a lake the entire weekend. As a precaution, i have had the encumbrances sign disclaimers (I will not be held accountable for any disappearing women). Anyone with some tough industrial fishing net i can borrow?

Haya! Lovely weekend y'all.

Keep the Motor Running?

A man 80 years of age married a young lady. A year later he carried her to the hospital, and she had a baby.
The nurse said to the man: "At your age, how do you do that?"
The man answered: "You just have to keep the motor running".
Another year passes, and the man carries her back to the hospital, another baby.
The same nurse said to the man and asked: "You are something else, how do you do that?". He said: "I told you that you just have to keep the motor running".
Another year and back to the hospital for another baby.
The same nurse said: "You are unbelievable, how do you do that?!".
He said: "You got to keep the motor running".
She answered: "Well, you better change oil, because this one came out black".

Sunday, February 04, 2007

I need a hobby

Yes, something to while away my time; something to expend my excess chakra on; something to keep me occupied in a good manner; something that might, or might not need batteries; something to ensure that the foot I have recently taken to dangling out of the BTrain is safe and sound back in the train. Please pay attention. I use the term, "something"; not "someone".

I have concluded I self destruct. I like it that way, I think. What am I going on about?

Let's see, I had a most terrible weekend recently and I survived it none the worse for wear. But some of the things that happened in that weekend got me thinking (yes I do think, thank you very much!) and following internal/infernal arguments, discussions, assessments, mental discourse, wendawazimu, call it whatever you like, I have come to the conclusion that I have an inborn self destruct mechanism. That would be the only explanation for the type of jamaa I get drawn to (this be the point where you should mutter, "A dude! Figures!" and trot on to the next post).

I go for Bad Boys. And not regular Bad Boys ("Honey, I forgot it was your birthday/valentines?) but the Really Really Bad Boys with power foam ("Who are you again and where/when/how did we meet?"). The kind you introduce to your mum as the "neighbour" (why is it that mothers presume neighbours cannot be Potential Male Accessories (PMAs)?) when he emerges from the kitchen in his boxers and the sugar bowl.

But I digress. As I was saying, I have the knack to draw them in like flies too (which would make me what, poop?). Give me a nice guy who couldn't be sweeter and I don on the Pal-goggles. Chapter closed. This is who I am and because of it I will be knitting leg warmers from homegrown wool (landscaping will not be a necessity after all!) when I am 60 for my 16 kittens. Bah humbug! I realised that and I accept that. (I just haven't figured out how to break this bit of news to the Fockers et al...)

That settled, question is, why the lure of the RRBBs? Is it because of the tried, tested and failed theory of oh-I-want-to-be-the-one-to-change-them-into-settledownable-men? I sincerely do not think so. And I can say this because once they do change into settledownable I bail. Faster than you can say, "Quiiiiiick". Actually, I am never around for that part.

Which then leads me to my latest theory. I do it because I am self destructive. Think about it. With a nice guy, there is a high chance of getting sucked in, settling, getting comfy, falling in love and all that mish mash. And when it doesn't work out you need a new broom (long handle and bristles variety) to gather the shattered pieces. I will be forever tormenting myself wondering, "He was so perfect; what, when, why, where, how?" With an RRBB on the other hand, there's no room to get comfy. You know it, the RRBB knows it, the kombamwikos know it. It doesn't work out, if there's any attempt to work something out, and you move on with maisha muttering, "It figures...I knew it...It was just a matter of time". And that's what makes them attractive - I know hapa hakuna kutekwa nyara. RRBB is not going to make any effort and if that pisses me off in the short term (yes I will still get inexplicably pissed off even if the writing's tattoed on his forehead; sue me, my defense will be that I am a woman after all), in the long term I will be glad to see the last of him.

Lakini I have fikad etc with that theory. Could there be another one? At this point, I need to figure out is whether I want to change and if so, how do I go about it. You cannot force matters of the NaHu-...er...mhmmm..ahem!...the heart.

Filosofia ya Ichiena imeletwa na nini? I met Argh (And yes. I know! The disgust in AAAAaaaaaarghhhhhhh has shortened with time! Tsk tsk!). The inevitable happened just like I always knew it would and we had to breath air within 10 feet of each other for 3 hours. Oh, no mind, no drama. We (being Ichiena normal, Ichiena pissed, and Ichiena horny) were cordial, friendly, playfull even - considering the circumstances. But it took only the first hour for me to realise he still has sexy eyes, bloodshot and all, but still sexy (my RRBBs are somehow usually high achievers in their field (be it as a bank thief or as a watchman), medula finely tuned, bold (hakuna cha kufyeka compound kabla ya kufikia kichaka - they zone straight in) and invariably own shares in KBL owing to full mwenjoyos hence the bloodshot eyes). And the cutest smile. Eeeeeek! It hit me that I would not mind, nay, I was contemplating a repeat session - wtf!!! It could be that the (Ich2+Argh4)squared is really still there - ama I need to disembark this train. I kept muttering, "Heart Throb (yep, a new TDH PMA in the horizon, he after my own...), HT, HT, HT..." like a mantra. An hour longer and I would have had thumb firmly stuck in an orifice - any orifice - knees bent, and rocking. Sixty-one minutes longer and this post would have been about the repeat session. I chalk it down to the fact that all the blood in my system has taken an extended leave to Holland and it is yet to return. Oh, and it didn't matter that the new PMA epitomises RRBB even more than Argh ever will. Almost like being tempted with Tusker and mantaring, "Kumi Kumi, KK, KK, KK..."

Still, I am mightily pissed. At myself. I cannot, and should not, be getting up to DIY courtesy of Argh! Or anyone else for that matter. Hii mpaka iwe pruned here and now. Haki.

And Ichiena is always right.

Never Argue with a Woman

One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, anchors, and reads her book.

Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"

"Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")

"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.

"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading."

"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."

"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman.

"But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.

"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."

"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.