Not On My Ass

My Night With Ms K

2006-04-23T23:03:00.000+03:00

Now that I'm catching up with the latest,
I can't help but comment on Ms K's "rebuttal"
to my post on How To Make a Woman Do Anything
in Bed.

This girl really knows what she wants in the bedroom and
I admire that. I have no problem teaching a
girl but when she's so in touch with her sexuality
I can't help but be impressed...

Actually, it reminds me of the holiday I spent
in Amsterdam ( a place that every virile man should visit )
... but that's a story for another time. I'll
post the pictures once I fish them out of my album.

When I wrote my first article, many people got
confused because I highlighted one aspect of
the sexual experiences I've had. Don't get distracted
by all the smoke and fire. The point was simple:
"explore damn it!". I wasn't advocating for
using one cavilier method every single time
you hook up with a woman.

Instead, through the extremity of the examples
I gave, I was hoping anyone reading it would
feel the urge to let go of fear and experiment a
little more. Ms K called some of what I said
"proposterous". She then ventured that most
women would not respond to that particular
approach. I beg to differ. Unless Ms K
has slept with enough women to warrant that
generalization, she couldn't possibly know.

I also don't know if the woman next to you right
now will respond to an uber alpha-male
approach. What I do know, is that when you
take a woman ( or man ) to extremes, [s]he tends
to respond in ways that even [s]he didn't
know [s]he could.

So Ms K, here's a challenge: I'll get my whips,
chains, handcuffs, nipple rings and candles.
Come over and I'll guarantee that you'll have the
time of you're life. That is, if you're not too
scared!

Easter Eggs

2006-04-22T22:14:00.000+03:00

Sorry I've been silent everyone... I'm still
recovering from Easter celebrations. I've
had one hell of a week but Easter was
definitely the highlight...

Sometimes I think I'm the luckiest man
on the planet. Last weekend my beliefs were
confirmed:

For the first time in a long time I had
a menagerie trois. The last time I
hooked up with two ladies was on my college
graduation night back in my younger days.
In all honesty the poor girls didn't really
know what was going on. Being the true
college boy I ensured they were drowned
in several bottles of premium vodka. But
that was many years ago.

Over Easter however, the situation was
much more appealing because the girls really
did know what they were doing. Two ( or more )
girls in bed is every man's fantasy. Most
ladies can't understand why we're so obsessed
with the idea. Don't try understand it. It's
one of those wonderful things that God allowed
men exclusively to understand :)

Sadly, after a week of chasing thse girls
for a repeat performance I've got nowhere! It
appears that it really was a once in a lifetime
event ( or rather a "twice in a lifetime" event ).

Being a Guy is Hard

2006-04-14T14:37:00.000+03:00

Finally, a woman who understands.

I used to scoff and roll my eyes when you went on and on about how women were so different and complicated. I probably even told a few of you to fuck off when you got going on that. I wrote it off as simple chauvinism. But then I had an experience that changed my perspective: I tried to have sex with a woman.

My first experience was with a life-long lesbian, and, given her experience and comfort with the whole thing, she took the lead. I wasn't really aware of that because, as a life-long heterosexual, it didn't play out all that differently from the encounters I'd had with men (until we started touching each other, that is). A few months later I met Jen through a mutual friend. Jen and I had a lot in common and as we chatted we learned we had something very interesting in common: we both wanted to have sex with another woman. This revelation came very early in our friendship, and we were obviously attracted to each other, so it seemed inevitable we would end up in bed together. Jen had never been with a woman before, though, so as the more experienced person I ended up taking the lead, taking the male role.

So there we were, two young, healthy, horny women, hot for each other. I figured getting her naked would be no big deal. Was I fucking mistaken. We went on date after date, talking endlessly about who knows what. The whole time I couldn't relax - I kept trying to read her signals, what she said, her body language, trying to figure out if tonight would be the night. It was very strange - I usually loved talking with girlfriends, but this just made me feel exhausted and stupid. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn't I make it happen? And then it dawned on me: this is what guys do ALL THE TIME.

So we did eventually do it, and we had a great time. I thought after that I would be more relaxed, but I was wrong again. It did get easier with each successive encounter, but only slightly. I still felt that pressure to read her mind. Only after 3 or 4 times did I finally feel comfortable with her, and then she moved out of town. We still email and see each other occasionally.

So guys, I have seen into your world, and I can say now, you definitely have it tougher than we do. I feel your pain. And ladies, if you're reading this, go easy on them. If you want to get it on, just let them know. They're killing themselves trying to figure it out. And that's just getting in the way of some potentially good fucking.

Life Goes On...

2006-04-10T08:35:00.000+03:00

The rain pours on and I stare at the ceiling in the house, trying to forget yet another stupid heart break…

Years have gone by as fast as minutes and over time. Dreams have turned into memories, some good; some bad, other dreams have just been shelved away and forgotten.

Time flies by ever so faithfully and consistently. If only we were like time… Doing what we are meant to do instead of getting lost in frivolous activity. If only we were so reliable…

But then life will be boring, wouldn’t it?

It is the risks and uncertainties that make us laugh, cry, hope and strive.

I look at the rain against the window. I feel like my tears are flowing at the same pace, but nothing matters now…

If only I... (sniff)... no more regrets ...

It is over…

Again… It is over again. I just don't seem to learn...

In fact, the world seems to promises yet another string of misadventures.

I look at the screen of the phone and I envy it… So unemotional… Just buzzing away.

I must have pressed the speed dial on the phone by mistake and I can see the name of my EX flashing… I don’t know if I should wait for her to pick and tell her, I had called by mistake… Instead I hit the cancel button. Scroll through the contacts, highlight her name and press the delete key.

I force a smile… but I am sure my face bears a grimace instead. I remember all those exciting and trying moments. The people who looked at us in admiration and respect as we pushed year after year together.

Sometimes I miss that the new found sense of responsibility that she gave me.

Sometimes I miss that phone call that I can make at any time and talk about any thing to someone… who would listen.

But the clock ticks by in a hurry to get to the end of the world, so does life… Life goes on.

From CFA to Affair

2006-04-07T11:01:00.000+03:00

Sorry I've been so silent but this girl has been going through some serious drama. Last time I told you how my CFA got married. Well, that wasn't the end of the story. For about a month I stayed working at the same place until I decided I couldn't handle it and moved somewhere else.

Last week, he called me and told me that he was having problems with his wife. He said that a wife is a formality and he still thinks about me. He told me that he was tired of fighting at home after a few months of marriage. He told me that his wife isn't as good as I am in bed. He asked if we could meet.....

His voice was so gentle and he had that sweet nervous laugh that always melts me and puts a chill in the pit of my stomach....

I don't want to post the rest of the details yet. I'm still trying to sort out how I'm feeling. At yoda's insistence, I'll start by continuing where the last post ended. John was married to a chic who worked in the same building! The tension was palpable. I'll post that story tomorrow.

Thanks for all the support guys.

Love is a Storm

2006-04-04T17:21:00.000+03:00

Over the weekend I finally managed to really relax. I got to sit back, put up my feet and simply enjoy the simple things in life. As it turns out, I also met some friends, one of whom managed to ply me with so much alcohol that I actually agree to join this blog ( *cough*yoda*cough ). But I digress.

On Saturday evening, I met an interesting friendly young bombshell. I was actually surprised that we left the pub at eight in the evening. It's usually a couple of hours past midnight when women are drunk enough to
properly seduce;)

I was prepared for an interesting night and I wasn't disappointed. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I was impressed with the girl. It's a rare woman who can keep up with me until sun rise.

When I woke up on Sunday, at about eleven in the morning, I was to get an even greater surprise. One of my ex girlfriends had left voice mail on my phone. She said that she wanted to give us another try. Even though she sounded slightly bitter, she was profoundly apologetic.

As I listened to the voicemail, I couldn't help thinking about how crazy men and women are. My ex and I used to fight all the time. Our fights often came to blows ( with me being the hapless punching bag! ). That was one passionate relationship and that passion extended into the bedroom in ways that still make shivers run down my spine. It took three months before the bite scars and scratch marks finally healed. My back and shoulders still look like I've been in sleeping in a bed covered in sheets of barbed wire.

Why is it then, that in a relationship that was filled with cursing and fighting, I'm tempted to call the girl back? Make no mistake, I'm not a relationship man. In fact the reason we broke up was that she found me in bed with another woman ( and even that happened enough times for her to realize that I would never change. )

More importantly, why is it that after I've tortured her so much she still wants to be with me? Why would she want to give us another try when all we'll do is fight and all I'll do is still fuck lots of other girls? It's as though the more I hurt her the more she wants to be with me.

The story gets even more weird. Every girl I've slept with knows that I'm pathologically incapable of being faithful. Still, that doesn't stop them from calling me, going out with me and sleeping with me over and over. Every weekend is the same!

I guess, deep down, we all know that love is a storm. Nothing ever stays the same and the other person is as likely to fall out of the boat into the rolling waves as they are to struggle to steer the boat to safety. What I do know is that I'm loving the storm.

And Paul Comes Aboard

2006-04-02T00:51:00.000+03:00

After all the controversy from Paul's last post,
I've spent the whole evening trying to convince him
to grow a pair and post for himself.

His excuse was that he's too busy writing his own
books and working on some "indie" movies. I told
him that this blog will be the perfect way for him to
sell himself to a new group of people.

Well.. a few beers later and after promising him five
young kenyan virgins as gifts, he's agreed to join us.

So let's all welcome Paul "The Contrarian". He's
sure to inject a lot more spice into this
blog ( God knows I can't do it! )

For a taste of the controversy from the last post, you'll
want to check out the following:

Personally, I've noticed a rather 50-50 reaction though women
seem to be more open minded, in general, than guys. I found it
sad to see that so many married folk absolutely cannot imagine
a spontaneous sexual life with their partners. It's quite
shocking to see how parochial so many men ( myself included ) are.

The comments that really cracked me up were mostly from some
all too conservative women who declared that Paul's suggestion
can be equated to rape!!! I think everyone's
getting rather carried away about rape. When did everyone
become so high strung and prudish? ( Sexual Consent anyone? )

I think we all tend to put sex on too high a pedestal and
ourselves in too small a box. If we could let go of the
fear, doubt, "what-ifs", maybes and ego, we could open
up a world far greater than anything we had ever previously
experienced. The magazines, "impotent" men and the feminists
will tell you something else. The liberated and pleasantly
open minded girls ( please give me a call as soon as you read
this ) all tend to agree that wild yet careful exploration
is necessary.

Anyway, I've defended Paul long enough and now he can defend
himself. As it stands, we both walked into Wine Bar yet somehow
I went home alone and he left with a beautiful brown thing clinging
to his arm. I can only imagine what they're upto right now!

Welcome Janet

2006-03-29T02:43:00.000+03:00

Janet has been cracking me up with so many stories recently
that I decided to ask her to join our humble blog. I simply
can't type as fast as she tells me her stories. Thankfully,
she agreed to join us.

I'd therefore like to take this time to welcome the beautiful,
charming and downright slutty Janet to this blog. Let the madness begin!!

If you can't wait for her posts, you might want to read her first
one here.

How to please a man in bed

2006-03-29T00:04:00.000+03:00

It is very simple to make a man happy in bed.
Forward-fast to the time you are actually getting down.

1. Be Vulgar - This is not an opportune time to use terms like "Appendages". Profanity is encouraged and you even have a chance to order and command without any worries.

2. Inflate his ego - Every 2 seconds mentions 2 words. These words have to contain the words "Big" and "Very". This can only be interrupted with loud gasps of air, moaning and groaning.

3. Do not engage in distracting discussion. e.g. Do not ask questions like "When do you think you will get that promotion?" at this time. and don't get tempted to do "When do we get married?" even if the going is good.

4. Have all the toys and gadgets at arms length. This is a time for removing what's left( if any...) of the lingerie not putting it on.

5. Feel and act sexy. Be proud, confident and sure of yourself.

6. Look Jovial and excited. Keen and like you are having the best time in your life.

DIY Abortions

2006-03-26T22:00:00.000+03:00

I'm not quite sure where I stand with regards to abortion.
I'm still trying to figure out why the thought or mention
of it forces chills down my spine, a lump into my throat and
painful tears into my eyes.

My father has often stated
that once a woman decides to
have an abortion, she will
do anything and everything to
get rid of the child prior to birth.
He therefore advocated
for legal and safe abortions to
be made available.

Initially, I didn't quite understand his argument.
Today, however, I agree with him. I was pushed
over the cliff by the situation in South Dakota
that has prompted women to start considering
Do-It-Yourself Abortions!

The potential dangers of this are obvious. A man can easily
identify with the horrors of self-circumcision which pale
in comparison to self-executed abortions.

One thing is certain: Women need to be protected whatever they
decide.

Filed Under: Serious Things

Men who cheat sucessfully and repeatedly

2006-03-24T16:33:00.000+03:00

Are smoother and their discourse is finer because it has been tried, tested and stamped a bill of good health
Their sex is obviously better; they get ideas from various women which they are only too eager to share with their spouses
They do not waste trying to gratify their unquenchable need for sex from just their women; their spouses are free and happier.
They present a more exciting package since they come with new surprises of tricks and tips they learn and keep learning from various other women.
They keep themselves in hot form, physically, mentally or/and otherwise. Since there are many judges who are continuously assessing and grading them.
They are not jealous since they understand the boredom monotony generates, and in the event their spouses cheat on them in return... they understand.
They will not leave their spouses for such an understandable act based on the circumstances. Their spouses are free to explore sexual adventures and still know
That there is someone to do the serious things like pay up school fees, rent etc
They demand more from their women physically, mentally and/or otherwise albeit indirectly so without twisting arms their spouses, these lucky women work hard to wade off competition and in effect look better, are sharper and smarter.
Yes and more?

Yin, Yang

2006-03-21T12:43:00.001+03:00

It is a mistake to consider man and woman two separate beings. They are no more than two halves of a single form, two converse hemispheres that fit tightly together to make a perfect whole. They are heaven and earth encapsulated in flesh and blood.

It is only that on its way to enter this world, this sphere was shattered apart. What was once the infinity of a perfect globe became two finite surfaces. What was once a duet of sublime harmony became two bizarre solos of unfinished motions, of unresolved discord.

So much so, that each one hears in itself only half a melody, and so too it hears in the other. Each sees the other and says, "That is broken." Feigning wholeness, the two halves wander aimlessly in space alone.

Until each fragment allows itself to surrender, to admit that it too is broken. Only then can it search for the warmth it is missing. For the depth of its own self that was ripped away. For the harmony that will make sense of its song.

And in perfect union, two finite beings find in one another infinite beauty.

Filed Under: BeingSingle

The CFA

2006-03-19T19:23:00.000+03:00

Another story, this time told by my friend, Janet. I've edited it heavily because the girl simply can't write to save her life. As always, this is another story I can definitely relate to.

We've all probably had one or several. We all understand the game.
We know the risks but still we play. The CFA is the
greatest invention after sliced bread. For those of you who
do not know what CFA stands for, let me break it down:

Imagine that you're not looking for a relationship.
Boyfriends are generally cumbersome and unreliable.
Finally, let's be honest, which hairy chested man is ever
faithful to one woman? A girl, however, still has
needs that have to be satisfied. I mean, seriously, even
the batteries for the vibrator wear out eventually. In
addition, even the best vibrator is not very good at
cuddling.

It is for these situations that a girl must have a
Convenient Fucking Arrangement. This is the guy you call
when you need some good loving with no baggage or
expectations. The difference between the CFA and a
boyfriend is that there are no strings attached. There's an
understanding that this is not a relationship and that no
one is obligated to anyone else in any way. No
commitments.

For a chic like me, there's one other benefit of having a
CFA. I can be as nasty as I want to be. I don't have to be
the church going Catholic girl simply because I want this
dude to introduce me to his mother one day. I don't have to
worry that he'll think I'm a whoring slut simply because
I want to try some position that I read in the Kama Sutra.
In short, I can bare all without having to live with the
consequences.

The first time, and the only time, I ever hooked up with a
CFA was when my boyfriend flew out to work for a Christian
organization in some God forsaken corner of the planet. As
far as he knew, I had been a virgin before meeting him. In
fact, if he'd mention oral sex I'd look at him the way a nun
would look at a priest who had just been found fondling an altar
boy. Being a "good Christian", the only position I'd let
him have was missionary.

So when he left, I felt heartbroken and emancipated at the
same time. I could finally get back to living a normal
life. At my place of work, we're usually paired because of
the strange way the offices were built: They are too small
for three but just big enough for two. It turns out that
last year, I was paired with John, a rather strange guy
who had always been trying to flirt with me.

Now, at close quarters, seeing him everyday, I felt
tempted to see what would happen. I was, after all, a
single girl. I don't know how it happened but soon enough I
found myself in his apartment doing things I hadn't dreamt of
doing for ages. The man was a beast. I'm a rather "big
boned" girl and he was the only guy who's ever been able to
lift me like I was a feather while pounding my brains out at
the same time.

This went on for the next eight months. At work,
everything would seem normal. You wouldn't even know that
we were meeting up to four times weekly to enjoy long
sessions of sinful sexual mayhem. I loved the freedom. I
loved the mystery of the situation. I loved seeing that
semi-tumescent bulge in his pants as he walked around the
office. I could see him trying to keep his eyes off my well
exposed cleavage and making a superhuman effort to ignore
the mini-skirt that would ride higher and higher up my
thighs every time I moved.

I felt like a dominatrix queen. Suddenly, I knew why men
are such philanderers. It's a wonderful experience. I
loved not having to bother taking care of a man. I loved
not having to massage his ego constantly the way a girl is
wont to do when in a relationship. I didn't have to "ask
permission" to go out with the girls. If I flirted with
another man, even another workmate, I didn't feel guilty.
When I slept with someone else, it didn't matter because it
was none of his business!

In September, however, something suddenly changed. I was
at Java House having coffee with my girlfriends when he
walked in. He wasn't alone. Instead, he had this eighteen
year old adolescent stuck to his arm. In all fairness she
was beautiful with those big innocent doe eyes that older
men love seeing in young girls.

I went dead silent. My lower lip started trembling. I
wanted to stand up and ask him what the hell he was doing
with that barely pubescent teenager. I felt hurt,
betrayed, wounded. What the hell was a thirty five year
old man doing with this eighteen year old girl? Look at
her. Her breasts were still pointing skyward even without a
pushup bra!

I couldn't bring myself to talk to him. All my girlfriends
were around. If I told them what I was thinking and feeling
they would just tell me that I had been stupid to hang on to
a CFA for that long anyway. Later that night, I did what
any woman would do. I tried to call him. I felt this need
to be with him, to hold him and hear him tell me that I'm all
he ever needed. I called fourteen times. The phone just
rang. Each time, it went to that irritating Safaricom
voicemail message.

The next week, he wasn't at work. I felt nervous asking
anyone where he was. I thought that it would make them
suspicious. I pretended not to care. After two weeks, I
was dying of horniness, loneliness and regret. Why didn't I
try to ask him if he wanted a relationship. Damn it!

One night, after getting home, I called his number. The
answer I got was: "I'm sorry but this number is no longer
in service..." I held the phone to my ear, breathless.
The message kept playing over and over. It almost drove me
mad.

I decided to ignore everything and get on with my life.
Even after making this decision I couldn't. I had trained
this man for a year!

He now knew just how I liked to be kissed, licked, stroked
and touched. He knew how much pressure to use when rubbing
me. I had taught him how to stimulate me so that I would
have amazing full body orgasms. The man couldn't even
kiss properly when we started sleeping together. I taught
him how to kiss like a pro. Our bodies went perfectly
together. I could confidently say that he was the best lay
I had, and probably would ever, have.

Most importantly, after having spontaneous sex for so long, I
had grown to trust him implicitly. We regularly had
unprotected sex. Wearing a condom was just too inconvenient
given all the action that happened in and out of the
bedroom. I felt close to him....I loved him.

I had broken the first CFA rule. I had gotten emotionally
involved with a convenience. The result was that I had got
my heart broken again. I decided to wait it out.

A month later, John strolled back into the office as though
nothing had happened. He was beaming from ear to ear and
bouncing with every step like an astronaut on the moon. He
didn't even greet me. He just collected his stuff, mumbled
something that sounded like "Hi" and walked into the senior
manager's office. That was the last time I saw him.

That afternoon, our senior manager announced that John had
been promoted to head an offshore division. What was even
more shocking was what the manager said next: The boss also
wanted to congratulate him on his wedding!

That did it. I had to sit down and catch my breath. The
bastard had gotten married! He didn't even tell me. He
didn't even warn me. He didn't even say goodbye. We had
been meeting regularly, upto four times a week and twice
over the weekends. Where the hell did he get the time to
find a wife? What the fuck was going on? What the fuck had
just happened to me?

Filed Under: Encounter of the week

Dating "Famous" Women

2006-03-11T20:30:00.000+03:00

My friend, Paul, saw the last post and wanted to share his story. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have.

In my long life I've dated some famous chics and one
chic who wishes she was famous. Trust me, it's worse than
dating someone famous. Famous chics are paranoid for a good
reason. The paparazzi are everywhere and their
image is everything. Wanna-be famous chics are paranoid for
no reason at all! They imagine everyone is watching what
they're doing when the truth is that no one gives two hoots
about them. In a ridiculous display of vanity, they
imagine that all eyes are on them all the time when the
reality is that they might as well be a fly on the wall.

I had seen this particular chic severally but only got
to know her early this year. Her name is Nyambura.

Nyambura is your typical Kikuyu chic: Obsessed with rich
men even though she adamantly denies that she's a gold
digger. For what it's worth, I believe her. I don't have
any gold to dig for so she couldn't possibly have been
dating me in order to get to my pockets.

She's also down-to-earth in the way that only chics from
Kiambu (a region of Central Kenya) can be. She believes
that if you want something done well you better do it
yourself. She loves to have fun but she's not a party
animal. She loves to drink but isn't a permanently high
alcoholic. She loves sex but isn't easy. In short, she's
my type of chic.

At least that's what I thought.

We had been hanging out for over a month and had gotten to
know each other really well. It had reached a point where
she was calling me in the middle of the night and
demanding the immediate use of my body. In short, I was having a
blast. No commitments and pure enjoyment.

Still, there were some things that bugged me about the
whole "relationship". This chic, would catch a fit if I
held her in public. It was crazy. You'd think she'd got an
epileptic seizure. In fact, I had begun to think that I
was smelly or repulsive in some way.

It was so weird. She'd say something romantic while we're
having coffee. I'd smile in response, lean over the table
to kiss her and she would leap off the seat
with such violence that you'd have thought she was a trained
acrobat. Talk about embarassing.

Okay, maybe I've exaggerated slightly but the point is that
she has this allergic aversion for what chics like to call
Public Displays of Affection (PDAs). The aversion was so
intense that I had to find out what the hell was going on.
Why was everything always so cloak and dagger? On Friday, I
got my answer.

We had just spent some time together and I was escorting her
to wherever it was that she was going. She insisted we use
some back streets that I didn't know existed. I'm not a
suspicious man so I assumed that we were taking a shortcut.
As we walked, we joked and laughed, doing all the standard
mushy stuff that lovers do. Being the man I am, I got
inspired. I grabbed her firmly as only a rugby player can.
I went in for the kill. Those pouty ruby red lips were
going to be mine. She was willing. My Friday was set. I
had scored.

Just as our lips made contact, she suddenly pulled a move
out of the WWF handbook. I was flipped to the side like a
pancake, turned around and shoved into a nearby doorway. I
stumbled off the street and landed on a filthy stairway. What
the F*%$k!

I shook myself to get rid of the fog in my eyes. Goodness!
I didn't know she was that strong. I walked out of the
hallway, cautiously. I was a bit worried that this Amazonian
vixen would cause permanent damage. That's when I heard
voices that forced me back into my hiding place. One was a
man's voice. He had to be in his mid to late forty's. The
other voice was Nyambura's!

I leaned out of the doorway to get a glimpse of what was
going on outside. There she was standing next to this tall
caucasion dude. His style of talking told me he was Eastern
European. His suit spoke to his success as a businessman.
Naive as I am, I said to myself:

"Hmm.. that's probably her boss wondering why she's not at work."

I know that offices are intimate places these days but the
next move shocked me. She tip-toed, laced her arms round
his neck and planted an all-too-erotic kiss on his lips! He
smiled and took her hand, leading her towards a white Range
Rover parked on the side of the road.

I dived out of my hiding place to catch a glimpse of this
absurd situation. Nyambura didn't even turn around. She
played her part perfectly.

Today morning, I woke up to find a text on my phone. It
said:

"Sorry about yesterday. That dude was my boyfriend. He's an exec at an NGO and was supposed to be in Botswana this month. I didn't know that he was around! Now you know why we can't be seen together in public: I'm going to be famous. He proposed last night!

I had to laugh at myself. Famous women are just too much
trouble. Now to call a normal Kenyan girl to make my
weekend a bit more exciting.

Filed under: ChicOfTheWeek

A Kenyan Dating Nightmare

2006-03-11T20:15:00.000+03:00

I've just received this email from a friend. I found it so funny that I'm going to reproduce it here and shamelessly ignore any copyright that was not mentioned. (warning: This post has heavy cultural subtext. It can only be understood if you are a Kenyan or understand Kenyan and Kikuyu lingo)

I found this hilarious because every dude and chic, including myself, have been in this position (eh..em.. situation) once or twice.

Chic: (calls jmburus) "Hello... Sasa Jamo.. its Sato bana.. we do some
nyama ?"

jmburus: Thinking he will get some that night quickly agrees... "Sawa
sweetie.. how about buffet park Shall I pick u at 2 ?"

Chic: Sawa.. laterz.

(jmburus amukas from Friday's hengies, showers, jeans n polo shirt, pockets
a pack of condoms, then drives to the chics crib..

So at 2-ish they drive into Buffet park and pitia the butchery to order
the nyaks.)

jmburus: (to chic) : So what do u want to have .. ?

Chic: just anything...

(aki these women are just thick at times... sasa hiyo ni jibu gani)

jmburus: (to butcher): Weka hizo mbavu , kilo moja na nusu , choma, ...
ikuje na kachum... *..**

(chic interrupts jmburus ! )

Chic: APANA eeiishh ! Si you know I dont eat goat meat

(jmburus thinks to himself... " Really !... then why didnt you say so in
the first place, nugu hii")

jmburus: (To chic) How about beef then ?

Chic: Its ok so long as it is not fat and not the legs. I dont like
mathunya

(jmburus looks away and rolls eyes up .. thinks to himself... "ati fat,
you are already carrying a 40 kilo MATAKO, surely ... 2 grams of fat are
negligible)

jmburus: (to an already impatient butcher) basi si unitafutie ngombe haina
mafuta.

(butcher chucks a ki-nice piece from the hangers hapo nyuma and holds it
up for mburus to see)

jmburus: weka hiyo nione...

(as the butcher is weighing it on the
scale...chic point at a small ,.. very very small piece of fat on the meat)

Chic: Hiyo iko na mafuta mingi sana, tuonyeshe ingine...

(butcher curses .. under his breath)

(other hungry buyers who are waiting hapo kando start fidgeting)

(jmburus feels like he should just have ordered fish fry from those fat
jang'o women they pitad on their way in)

(Chic points at a fresh carcass of meat ... somewhere near where the meat
is hanging from such that is impossible to extract a piece without the
entire carcass falling down on the floor)

Chic: kata pale ...

butcher: hapo haiwezekani mama .. kula hii ndio fiti

(butcher attempts to return the piece back on the scale)

Chic: Apana !.. Hauna nyama zingine kwa store...

jmburus: (to chic) lets do this... let him fry that one, I will eat the
mathunya pieces ama... ?

Chic: OK

jmburus:(to butcher) Fanya iwe fry na uweke nyanya, dhania na spinach.
Ongeza ugali mbili...

Chic: (to jmburus) .. Ugali ? me I dont want ugg.. Dont they have chipos.

Chic: (to butcher) leta na ugali moja na chips mbili

(jmburus thinks to himself... no wonder the butt is 40Kgs.. sasa u avoid
animal fat then u kula half a gunia of chipoz .. talk about nyani haoni
kundule)

Butcher: KAMAU !!! Oya nyama ino ! ni furae , na wikire nyanya, dhania na
spinashi. ndugekire waaru..

(butcher pins the meat with a tag and tosses it to kamau in the kichen
behind him)

Butcher : Sawa... shika resiti .. namba yako ni 53.. Itachukwa ithaa moja...

jmburus pays the butcher and chukuwas the receipt and tag.

So we enter the open space of the club and sit down.
Waiter comes , jmburus orders his cold Tusker, chic orders her malt..

We kunywa kidogo.. storoz panda... then there is this mama who pitaz a
tray of oil oozing samosas , sausages and mshikakis..........

Chic: we psst ppstt nipe samosa mbili na hiyo niniii ...

jmburus: (shocked).. haiya si u wait for the meat..

Chic: I will still kula the meat...

jmburus: ok

(and she proceeds to kula 2 samoz and 3 mshikakis)

One hour 20 minutes later .. the Waiter comes round with maji moto for
washing hands.. we wash our hands and the the meat checks in with the
chipos and the Ugali all hot steaming and looking nice...

"Bonne Appetit" ! .. Karibu Nyama " ... Jmburus invites the mama and
thinks to himself.. now she will really shiba...

LAKINI WAPI !
Yaani after all that shiet, she just hen pecks about the platter of meat
here and there BUT proceeds to maliza the 2 plates of chipoz having eaten
only 3 pieces of nyama.

As if that is NOT ENOUGH ... 3 minutes later:

Chic: tsk! tsk! chief...tsk! tsk! Waiter ! niletee serviettes pliz..na
toothpicks

jmburus: (cursing silently ) why arent you eating nyama....

Chic: I have shibad deadly plus I started feeling my ulcers ... Si u jua
the way they can be nasty..

(without another word jmburus proceeds to kula what he can and asks waiter
to pack the rest of the meat in a juala)

Jmburus patias waiter the now wrapped remaining meat to peleka to his car
...
...
Then he fungulias the carburattor (sp ) "LETA TUSKER mbili na MALT Mbili"
as they wait for the Arsenal Match coming on the screens in about 20
mins..

Beers, Storoz, the game.... more beer flows... After kindu like 2 hours...
to the amazement of jmburus...

Chic: tsk! tsk! chief...tsk! tsk! niitie yule mama wa sambusa...

...(jmburus closes his eyes and thinks silently... we should just have
headed to Topaz..Fish n chips...

( So later on at around 12:30 am Jmburus takes the chick to the car and
starts being naughty kidogo. the chick responds well and before long they
are catching rubs like .....)

jmburus: baby .. baby .. si we go to somewhere more private?? ??

Chic: aaah.. aaah... you naughty boy!!! rrrrrrr. sure whats on your mind?

Jmburus: I will show you

( jmburu drives like a mad man in anticipation of what is at stake ' 40kg
of pure booty' occassionaly missing the gears and going way up her tiny
skirt.)
before long they get to jmburus hao.Catch all the way to the fifth floor.

jmburu: ( both already half naked, jmburu tries to chuck her pants)

Chic: weeee iz how............ what you trying to do?

Jmburu: (amazed Stunned Look) kwani what do you think ?

Chic:: bilaz I dont want!!

Jmburu: come on babe!

Chic: ( pulling a very serious look) NO! Dont do that !

Jmburu: hala ! whats the matter! ( thinking! si thamutha umekula ? na
viazi vya mafuta? )

Chic: I cant

Jmburu: ( tusker malt tano na nyama ya ngombe fry? shuma Razima irare
ndani!)

Chic: I'm rolling !!!

Jmburu: Sh*T!!!

PS: Conclusion : TABIA MBAYA âEUR¦ That was the last time I took her out.

Filed under: Encounter of the week

Wambzz on Heartbreak

2006-03-08T13:16:00.000+03:00

Recently, I was looking at the logs for this blog and noticed that one particular post has become popular among readers. It was posted by Lesaan in June last year. The post was titled Loved and Lost.

In that post, Lesaan, in a rare display of vulnerability and emotion, detailed her experience of heartbreak. The post was very deep and the comments that resulted were equally interesting. I was shocked when I read the comments I made on that post.

Naivety is a strange and embarassing thing. In fact, I was so embarassed to read my own words that I was tempted to delete those comments so that no one would know how ignorant I am concerning matters of the heart. Sadly, deleting that comment wouldn't help because I've found those comments on Google's infinite cache as well as a host of other search engines. As a wise man said: Google never forgets. But I digress.

My comments were along the lines of: "Get over it... you'll heal, time sorts out everything, don't lose your love for falling in love, keep your heart open to the next person to come into your life." Actually, if I were selling detergent, that would have been a modestly good sales pitch. However, in real life, where hearts break with resounding pain, the solutions aren't so simple. Wambzz outed my callowness when she said:

Nick, from your comment I think you have never really really suffered a heartbreak...really? But then again you are still young...its hard to look at it so philosophically - personally all I would have wanted...still want to do in a very distant part of my heart is kill the nigga...shoot his balls and feed them to the pigs...pluck his pubic hairs one by one with a tweezer....I dont care that tomorrow I might feel better; I just feel better imagining my revenge. Thats my two cents worth.

In my defence, at that time I was in a ~~modestly fulfilling~~ unfulfilling relationship. I was optimistic because I had seen an opportunity to move away from my [then] current lukewarm relationship and into a new relationship with someone infinitely better than anyone I had ever had the honour of meeting. This optimism was blinding. When I'm in love, it's virtually impossible for me to think straight or communicate coherently. It's as though I'm wearing rose coloured glasses that make everything I look at beautiful. I had had some terrible breakups by the time I commented on Lesaan's post, but my current situation ensured that I couldn't make a meaningful judgement.

Since that time, I have learned, the hard way, that "relationships" are much more complicated than anything I could possible imagine. Talking to CosmicLeap recently, I told him that love is a game I do not understand. The result is that I always end up losing. I'm a man playing a game of Chess when I think that I'm playing Checkers! At the beginning of this year I decided to stop playing the game until I'm mature enough to understand the basics of the game. Now, I realize that I may never attain that level of understanding.

This led me to another important revelation: Not everyone deserves love, not everyone can handle love, not everyone can manage love and not everyone will ever even find love. This is a painful reality but it is true. This means that some of us are better off focussing on more important things than looking for love.

That being said, love is a game of probability which favours those who have the largest sample on their side. In short, you need to cast your net far and wide, attempt to avoid disease or death, and eventually you might find someone you can spend your life with. Even then, if I meet an average of one hundred new chics every month (I'm currently averaging twenty new acquaintances a month), it is still not guaranteed that I will find anyone. The trick then, I think, is to stop looking for a saviour. We often think that love is this supreme ideal that will cure our spiritual and emotional cancer. It's become more and more apparent that Love has been put on too high a pedestal. In the end, the only definite guarantee that you have is that you will end up alone, the same way that you came into this world.

We might as well get used to it.

filed under: BeingSingle

How To Make A Woman Do Anything In Bed

2006-03-01T17:00:00.000+03:00

When Paul sent me this, I was a bit nervous about posting it. However, it's
simply too good to keep to myself. Enjoy his wisdom.

I love porn. I'm a man. Of course I love porn. When I
watch Briana Banks, Jenna Jameson or Flick Shagwell do their
thing, I can't help but wish that my girlfriend would be as
freaky, playing with toys, sloppy blow jobs, anal
craziness and experimenting with hard core bedroom games.

In my first couple of relationships, I would suffer in
silence. Sure, I was having plenty of sex but no one could
come close to my favourite porn stars.

The good news is that with age comes experience. I've learned
how to turn every woman I sleep with into a bona fide porn
star. These days, even the most frigid, conservative and
church going women end up turning into raging nymphomaniacs.

( I'm assuming you already have a woman you can use this
on. This article won't tell you how to actually get a woman. )

Your wife is a porn star

That's right. I said it and you better start believing it
if you want to get the most amazing sex you've ever
had. That girl who you think is so conservative that she
won't even wear a thong is an award winning porn
star. Beneath that sanitised, polished prim and proper
exterior lies the football team slut waiting to be released.

What I've learned is that every single woman has had at
least one relationship where she was a complete slut. She
never forgets this steamy sordid relationship. She never
forgets the time when they couldn't keep their hands off
each other. She remembers it as the best sex she ever had.
She did things that were so nasty that she was nervous to
tell even her closest friends about it. She may never tell
you about it but she still thinks about it.

She can do anything if the right "buttons"
are pressed.

Scratch my back and....

Most of us have been victims of magazine propaganda about
how to make women go down more. We've been made to believe
that if you want your woman to do something nasty for/to
you, you have to do it to her first. For instance,
we're told that if you want your woman to give you a
blow job ( and a good one at that ) then you necessarily have
to go down on her first. This is utter nonsense. I'll
tell you why.

Firstly, reciprocity is a myth. A woman simply wants to be
pleased and she wants pleasure on her own terms. Often,
she won't do something unless she has to or she really
wants to. So if you think giving her head will get you
some, you may be sadly mistaken. After the big O she'll
simply thank you and bask in the glow. Also remember that
once you "do it to her first", you lose your bargaining
power. If you hold out on pleasuring her, she may do you
first in the hope that she'll get something for her work.

I once had a girlfriend who would never go down on me. Personally, I loved going down on her and I hoped for at least some reciprocity. I would go down on her for hours on end ( literally ). After pleasing her till my neck was aching and tongue numb, I would ask her to do the same for me. To my shock and horror she would firmly say "No...", turn over and fall asleep!

This happened to me so many times that I had to wise up.

In other cases, a woman will reciprocate. But if she feels
like she's paying you back she simply won't put everything into
it. If she feels like she's only doing you a favour by giving
you something in return, she'll be half hearted at
best. At worst you'll end up getting one of those awkward five
second blow jobs that leave you wishing your right hand had
enough strength left to finish off the job.

Woman, Touch Your Toes NOW

The secret to getting her to do your perverted will is to
speak with authority. Do not say "sweetheart". Do not say
"please". Most of all, do not, under any circumstances
say "I was wondering if...". You're going to have to be the
alpha male.

After getting tired of all the tame sex I was having, I decided to try out this experiment. After work, I passed by the pub, had a stiff vodka on the rocks and psyched up. When I got home, my girlfriend was watching some cheesy Spanish soap opera. I unplugged the telly. She looked at me like she was ready to knife me. Before she could comment, I walked to her and ripped her blouse apart. Buttons sprung into the air and flew across the room like loose change. Immediately, her anger turned into fear. I almost hesitated until I noticed that her nipples were as hard and long as AK bullets.

I grabbed her roughly by her hair and told her in no uncertain terms: "Woman.. today you are going to suck cock!". She gasped in shock. I stared at her without flinching and said: "NOW!!!". Like a panicky virgin, with hands trembling slightly, she unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants and pulled my tool out. Suffice it to say that I had the most amazing and perverted sex known to man that night. Now, when I go to visit her, she's always naked and waiting with some new and more amazing idea. When she visits me at work, she comes without underwear. How cool is that?

Put some bass in your tone. You are the man. You
don't ask for what you want, you take what you want!.
Nothing gets a woman more open than the realization that
you are a man with power and control. The man who can get
any woman he wants and get them to do anything he wants.

Second, you're going to have to talk filthy. You're going
to have to use words that would shock the rudest of
sailors. Your job is to make her aware that she's just met
the nastiest man on the planet. The kind of man she
secretly wishes she could have a fling with in a foreign
country.

Lastly, treat her like a slut. Just make sure you don't
over do it. It's a thin line between offending her and
getting her adrenaline pumping through her loins ( and jaws ).

You're going to have to move swiftly and forcefully. It
helps if you're stronger than she is. Grab her hair if you
want. You're a beast and she's about to be used and abused
beyond her wildest dreams. Make sure she knows it. State
your demands and move like you expect them to be fulfilled
without hesitation.

Remember that fear is your friend. This is why fast cars
have been getting men laid for decades. The fear of
crashing does incredible things to a woman's libido. The
fear that you've become a beast will get her hotter than the
centre of the sun.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained.

Many magazines and articles will tell you not to force her.
They'll tell you to be a giver if you want to receive.
They'll tell you to ask sweetly and romantically. They'll
tell you to bring up the topic and reason with her about
it. This is all nonsense.

Maybe you want her to whip you or you want to handcuff her
or you want to explore the kinkiest fetishes known to man .
Maybe she's one of those dodo birds that don't indulge in oral
sex and you're tired of fantasising about the possibility.
It doesn't matter what you want from her. You can get it.

But first and foremost you have to remember that women don't
want a gentleman ( at least not for this purpose ). You
have to temporarily transform yourself into the man she'd never
introduce to her mother.

That's enough for now. I've got my "porn star" in the bedroom
waiting to give me some nasty loving. Leave comments and
tell me how it works out for you.

Filed Under: Being Single

The Perfect Relationship

2006-02-16T09:55:00.000+03:00

Today I read a post that simply brought tears to my eyes. In it, the author describes his wonderful wife and how their honeymoon is in its seventeeth year. The reason tears clouded my eyes is because I'm a romantic at heart. It sounds strange for me to say that. All the contributors to this blog are workaholics and to us (with the possible exception of CosmicLeap), "ro-mantic" sounds like a type of new fangled cement mixer. Why then, did this post rip something within me apart?

While I was reading it, I was also listening to Ne-yo's new album, In My Own Words. The track "So Sick" began to play. This track is about heartbreak. The lyrics are evocative and heart rending. In it, he sings my life with his words:

Gotta change my answering machine
Now that I'm alone
Cuz right now it says that we
Can't come to the phone
And I know it makes no sense
Cuz you walked out the door
But it's the only way I hear your voice anymore
(it's ridiculous)
It's been months
And for some reason I just
(can't get over us)
And I'm stronger then this
(enough is enough)
No more walkin round
With my head down
I'm so over being blue
Cryin over you

And I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishing you were still here
Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
So why can't I turn off the radio?

Gotta fix that calender I have
That's marked July 15th
Because since there's no more you
There's no more anniversary
I'm so fed up with my thoughts of you
And your memory
And how every song reminds me
Of what used to be

That's the reason I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishing you were still here
Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
So why can't I turn off the radio?

The combination of this romantic track and this romantic post were too much. A wave of recollection suddenly drowned me. Even though I've never experienced a true loving relationship, I had "a memory" of what such a relationship would feel like. I guess we all have that deep throbbing piece of our heart that constantly reminds us that we would love to be loved and love to be in love. We'd love to be close to someone who's presence overpowers us and still makes us feel safe, complete and wanted. To look into another person's eyes and see their unwavering adoration. To kiss them and feel the world around you melt away in bliss. To make love to them and feel the boundaries of the universe collapse as infinity joins the two of you. To wake up next to this person and feel them holding you tight, as though not even death will permit the separtion of the two of you...

Or maybe I'm dreaming. We often discover that meeting our childhood hero is a depressing experience. The car of your dreams is never as good as the plastic Lamborghini Mura that we used to push around the dining room floor. Christopher Reeves really isn't as cool or as strong as superman. He can't even fly! Perhaps it's the same thing with my romanticized idealism. Perhaps, when I finally find that woman who makes me feel complete, I'll discover that love, like a childhood hero, is a dissapointment in real life.

Somehow, I still hold on to my romantic image of love. Tim Ottinger, has given me hope when he talked about Valentine: When the honeymoon is over…. And his wife actually reads his blog. She posted the first comment in an equally romantic fashion. (My girlfriend was least bothered about my writing. In fact she'd call it imature, irresponsible and creatively bankrupt!). Anyway, kudos to Tim and his wife. I wish that one day I will experience what they share:

People are always talking about what a serious business marriage is. I am told that you really have to work at it, and you only get out what you put in, minus a little. There’s all this about how you have to work hard to impress each other with diet and fitness and gifts and tokens of affection, and how you have to spend not only time, but quality time. You have to schedule your time, and make priorities, and all that. It sounds risky and difficult and amazingly self-sacrificing.

Man, that’s pretty scary. I’m glad I never knew that when I met my wife.

See, we’re not really bright when it comes to romance. We just love to hang out together and we like to talk (especially on long rides or after the kids are asleep). We lounge across each other whenever possible, and have been known to be holding hands or hugging or touching pretty much all the time. We actually like each other and are best friends. We enjoy being together and doing things together, and even doing nothing together.

I’m probably the worlds least gifted in “material thoughtfulness”. It never dawns on me to pick up gifts and candies, and I am not good at picking up hints or understanding what other people like. If the honeymoon is ever over and I have to start working at this I will probably wash out. I don’t plan little surprises and trips, and I have to ask my wife for money to buy her stuff, so surprises are out of the question. Hey, she manages it better than I do, and I respect that. We tend to each kind of rely on the other’s strengths.

That’s where I’m really lucky. My wife has a lot of skills and talents. I really respect her abilities and idea. She’s different in intellect — maybe it’s intuition or body language or something — she’s more emotionally aware of other people’s feelings and motivations. She is adventurous and likes to try new things and new places. She’s got a killer memory, whereas mine stinks. She can do math so fast and accurately, it makes my head swim. She’s also good at getting things done. If this honeymoon ends and I have to compete with her, she’ll clean my clock. I don’t know how my emotionally squeamish self-absorbedness will even get to play in the same league.

So I’ll be all upset when the honeymoon is over and all the work and planning and effort kick in. I’ll miss this spontaneous honeymoon kind of living. I’ll need new skills and abilities, but then at least I’ll understand what all this relationship talk from the pros is about and how it is for those other “normal” couples. Man. Things will be different.

Maybe we’ll be able to at least squeeze out another 17 years together before that happens.

Women Don't Need Advice

2006-02-15T00:14:00.000+03:00

If I had known this a long time ago, I'd be so much more successful with women. Sadly, it's taken me this long to learn. This is the kind of advice I'll give my son once he turns fourteen. Had I known this years ago, my sex life would be much more active:).

Once again, I'm shamelessly quoting an article. This one is titled: HOWTO Listen To Women.

Let’s begin with an illustration. What would you say?

She: “My landlord is a jerk. When I ask him to fix things, he’s always late and grouchy about it. He always brings up the time that I was two weeks late paying…”

You (reasonable but stupid): “Yeah, landlords are all that way. You just have to put up with it.”

Do not give advice.

You (stupider): “You should get a new apartment.”

Do not solve the problem.

You (stupidest): “Why didn’t you pay him?”

Do not criticize.

This is where the secret begins. Most men would have given one of the stupid answers. They seem perfectly reasonable from their point of view.

When a woman lets you in on a problem this way, the words she uses do not mean what you think they mean. Often a woman will frame a question or statement in a way that clearly begs advice or a solution. That’s just how you heard it. Remember this, she’s not stupid. She knows the answer already. There is something about the wiring in women that requires a kind of periodic verbal maintenance. She sounds like she wants advice, but really she’s going into this maintenance mode. Learn to follow the protocol.

I once went out with a girl who I'll call Cruella Deville, for the sake of anonymity. Whenever she'd have a problem she'd tell me. I'd then go about trying to figure out possible solitutions and discussing them with her. I wanted to contribute positively and make her happy. This turned out to be a BIG MISTAKE!!!. She'd always get angry especially because I was younger than her. It seems old[er] women don't like advice from younger men.

We would then end up fighting. In order to hurt me she'd then go about telling me how her previous boyfriend was so wonderful, tall, brown, handsome, successful and with a twelve inch....Like a good child who gets a beating for making noise while adults are around, I quickly learnt my lesson. I learned to shut up. The irony was that the fights got worse. I couldn't understand it. In the short term she'd be happy that I was a dumb mute. But in the long term, she'd bitch and moan, rant and rave about me never telling her what I was thinking.

Women are too complex and I'm too stupid:)

When It Hit Me

2006-02-11T22:06:00.000+03:00

Long after a relationship ends, I often find that I live in a dream world. I withdraw into my safe shell, avoid going clubbing, avoid dating, socialising or doing anything that might accidentally result in me meeting my ex. Even though I've more or less convinced myself that I've moved on, time always proves that I'm a fickle overemotional bastard...

So let me tell you about a recent weekend...

I decided to go out after a long period of staying away from public life. I'd been silent for long enough and like a new born calf, I wanted to test my unsteady, shaky legs in the normal world. So on the weekend in question, I stepped out of my cave, shivering and shaking wondering what the night had in store. I was actually intent on getting a pretty young thing to take home and wear out with all my pent up sexual energy. My wingmen (the dudes who fly with me into "dangerous situations" with a view to taking down as many birds as possible) and I hit a club and I start to hunt various prospects.... and that's when it happened....

As I walk away from the bar, whisky and soda in hand, I see her across the club. There she is. The club is dark but she seems to glow like a diamond in the rough. She looks even more beautiful than I remember. She's dressed to kill and my eyes don't seem to be lying: She's in the arms of a six foot mandingo who looks like a successful lawyer, part time doctor and part time porn star. In short, he's just as stunning as she is and they look like the perfect supermodel couple. I can't help compare my 5'4 unfit potbelly-having frame to this broad shouldered muscular sixpack-having Maurice Chestnut carbon copy who's now openly fondling her.

My mind starts racing and my heart starts pounding. My forehead gets moist and then a bead of salty sweat stings my eyes which only forces tears to well up faster than they should. My knees start trembling. My palms are now so clamy that my glass falls from my hands, smashes into my brand new white shoes and stains them with amber whisky. I'm frozen as I stare at the two. From across the room and through all the noise and blaring music, I hear her laughter. I remember that laugh: It's the laugh that she uses to say: "Take me home now..."

I begin to see this hunk of a man lifting her off her feet and tearing her clothes off.... She responds by stripping him faster than I can blink. She's even more passionate than I ever saw her. She whispers that she loves him and pushes him onto a couch.... A love making session unlike anything I ever remember is about to begin....

Suddenly I hear my friends shouting.... I notice that I'm lying on the floor.... I had fainted. They lift me up and my blurry vision begins to focus. I look across the club. Mandingo is holding my ex's hand and leading her out of the club and towards the parking lot. She reaches back and squeezes his firm butt....laughing...

She didn't even see me faint.... That's when it hit me: It really is over....

Two types of people

2006-02-11T19:09:00.000+03:00

There are two types of people: those that talk the talk and those that walk the walk. People who walk the walk sometimes talk the talk but most times they don't talk at all, 'cause they walkin'. Now, people who talk the talk, when it comes time for them to walk the walk, you know what they do? They talk people like me into walkin' for them. - Key (Anthony Anderson in Hustle & Flow)

Childish Sex Games

2006-02-09T22:37:00.000+03:00

Ah.. the good old days... do you guys remember the innocent games you played when you were young? Those games seemed so innocent but in hindsight they seem torrid. Like this game I'm sure we all played called sandwhich:)

Sandwich involved laying a broad, flat couch pillow down on the floor. This was the bread. Then Lori would pull her pants down around her ankles and lie face down on the pillow. Next, the precocious mastermind three-year-old Dowbrigade would pull down HIS pants and lie down on top of Lori. This accomplished, young Karen would pull down HER pants and get on top of the Dowbrigade.

Finally, somehow (for there was no one else to help) we got another of the big, flat pillows and maneuvered it onto the very top of the pile. This was the finished sandwich.

Once the sandwich was assembled, the fun would begin. The object, as we seem to remember, was to sway gently and slightly back and forth, gradually increasing the swings in amplitude and speed, balancing more and more precariously, until the whole stack fell over onto the playroom floor, and we started the whole process over again.

Obviously, we were trying to recreate what one of our filthy, infantile minds (probably yours truly) had seen some adults doing, somewhere, somehow. We had no idea what we were trying to accomplish, but we seem to remember it was rather fun.

from dowbrigade

It's funny how, as we grow older, some of us (men and women both) tend to get so reserved, insecure and conservative to the point of being bonafide prudes. For some of us we go the opposite way. I know that as I've grown older I've only got nastier, more curious and explorative in the bedroom. Sex is such a wonderful powerful thing. Let's not put restrictions on how far our imagination and lust can take us. In sex, as in art, its seems we were wiser and more imaginative when we were kids!

Speaking of years

2006-02-02T12:29:00.000+03:00

We are one year old now!!! yeepiee!!
teething
almost crawling
it has been one year since the first post(dated 02/02/2005)
Thanks everyone
All those lovely(and unlovely!) comments!
Let's throw the papers in the air in celebration!

What matters

2006-02-02T12:01:00.000+03:00

Suddenly I am balding and my hair's whitening
I am wrinkling and gaining fat in odd places
becoming saggy and my stomach's distending
Years have flown by...
I squint your eyes trying to see through the thick lens
looking through the window at the trees swaying from side to side in a distance
dancing to the unsteady beat of the wind

I am healthy and for my age, I am looking great.
But time ticks buy, ever so dutifully
So in my mind, death lingers on like a dark shadow
following me and my thoughts...
the reality of mortality stairs back at me blankly...

In my old mind...
I try to think about what really matters to me
What is important

Money?
Spouse(s)?
Love(s)?
Child(ren)?
Former Boss?
Bully back in Primary School?
Piece of land?
Phd?
God(s) and my relation with him(them)? If any.
Friend(s)? Foe(s)?
My vehicle(s)?
Achievement(s)?
What I did and didn't do?

Everything seems to fall in place
It is now very lucid
I now know...
What really mattered
And I am not sure whether I am regretting, being vain or just having a thought.
It doesn't matter...

nothing really matters now.

<<<<<<>>>>>>>

Swing back many years later. And now is this year.
I am young and full of vim.
With a mind and a will.

Everything matters.

Bleach On My Ass

2006-01-27T09:57:00.000+03:00

I thought it will be mean of me not to share this very interesting piece.
How Do My Genitals Look Today?

King Kong and the Thin Blond Crap

2006-01-20T10:08:00.001+03:00

Well I was happy to see Yoda's posts, especially since it makes it perfectly clear:

What beauty really is.

Even XXL knows this.

Now.

I have nothing but mad respect for the legendary film director - Peter Jackson - The Director of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and of Best selling novel of 2004 Lovely Bones (out 2007)

But...

King Kong just did not rub me in the right way and I thought I was alone until I stumbled upon Sheryl McCarthy's 'Blonde is beautiful' mystique

I must admit I could not agree more!

I find this:

some what absurd.

Let's zoom in:

This is rather absurd.
I mean surely, Kong should have had better taste. Okay. Naomi Watts is talented and she looks pretty but I mean the figure! Really.

Below is her full length picture.

I know what you are thinking and I agree.

They would have at least put on a sexy bodied lady! Like Jessica alba say.

But the connotations of racisms in the movie were truly more on the Skull Island dwellers, they were so black I could harldy see them. And whether you would like to admit it or not, this was stack contrast to the whites back in the civilized world.

Okay at least one of the key roles was done by a balck man - a crew man in the ship, which was nice.

We would have happily concluded that the Skull Island dwellers were some imaginary race that does not exist since the Island itself is also non-existant in the real world. Unfortunately, there was teh live performance scene after they captured King Kong that told reaffirmed our fears or created for that matter. On this scene black(negro) actors were depicted as the savages of the Skull Island, to me Peter Jackson had a super white opportunity at this point of going against the original King Kong story and put savage-looking whites, that would have shifted the focus away from the volatile race issues.

Apparently ther are many people who shares my views too.

Note Lord of Rings was fine, and there is no racism in the whole movie. The whites where both heros and villians. The orcs looked mostly black in the movie but they were not negros - They seemed more like some white race that had just not taken a bath and they were full of grim slime that made them look blacker than they really were.

http://www.lordoftherings.net/media/desktops/darkness_orcs_1024.jpg

Strippers Make All the Money

2006-01-15T15:32:00.000+03:00

The ladies above may look familiar to those of us who
watch a truck load of music videos. To everyone else,
they just look like another pair of models. The
ladies above are Ki-Toy Johnson(left) and Buffie the Body.

This picture reminded me of a story I was told by a
friend of mine who's been living in the United States
for some time now. She tells me that she earns $2000
per night for dancing topless!. A quick
calculation shows that $2, 000 is approximately half the
monthly salary at my previous job and roughly a quarter
to a fifth of the salary of the other contributors to
this blog!

Even more amazing is that Buffie the Body, who
is a top ranked celebrity stripper is rumoured to earn ten times
that amount: anywhere between $20,000 to $50, 000 and
even as high as $100, 000 for a night of her
strip tease performance!

I'll pause for a moment to let those figures (the
money, not their bodies:) sink in.

I decided to do a bit of checking on the extreme end of
the adult entertainment industry where I discovered
that the top ranked female adult entertainment
actresses earn upto $750,000 (sh. 60M) a year! A typical yearly
contract for the average actor can even net $150,000
(sh. 12M) a year. Those figures are from
contracts alone. We haven't even began to include royalties!

After I had been told all this, I sat back in shock
and looked at my friend. She read my mind and said:
"I know what you're thinking and I agree: It's
impossible for a woman to be broke in the free world!"

As I nodded in agreement, I thought back to my
younger days when I visited some strip clubs in
Northern Ireland and Britain. I have to admit, I was
curious to savour the more risque forms of
entertainment. However, I was far more interested in
the business side of the industry. What I found
surprised me.

It's easy to judge strippers and assume that they are
dumb uneducated blondes who were molested by their
relatives, forced to run away from home and found that
the only way they could fend for themselves was by
exhibiting their bodies. It's easy to imagine that
they're women of loose morals with a bit too much "D-D"
in their chests and too little "I-Q" in their
brains. It's easy to look down on them.

My experience taught me different. What I found was
that these women are highly intelligent, well educated
(some getting their first degree in Engineering,
Business, Marketing, Industrial Chemistry, and so
on), extremely driven, morally upright (they are not
sluts or whores) and more hard working than most Fortune 500
CEOs. In addition, they are all breathtakingly
beautiful with bodies that God himself must have
chiseled with such precision and attention that he
could never be able to replicate that perfection.

These women have a business sense that put me to
shame. One would not imagine a stripper knowing the
difference between active and passive investment
portfolio managment or the difference between Q and V
investment schools or the vagaries of tax sheltered
securities. Talking to them (off working hours),
revealed a totally different picture. These women
understand that an individual is a products and
services business. They take themselves very
seriously. The train just as hard as professional
athletes and watching them perform, I often winced
as I felt my bones snap in response to some acrobatic
display of superhuman dexterity being played out
before me. These businesswomen realize that their
current occupation is only a stepping stone to their
eventual goals. It is their way of obtaining large
amounts of startup capital with comparitively little
strain.

I was jolted out of my train of thought as my friend asked
what I was thinking about. Looking at her, I smiled as I realized just
how far ahead of the game this girl in front of me
was. I realized that women really do have a leg up (no pun
intentended) compared to men when it comes to making money. Everyone
has to draw a moral line when it comes to making money
but if I were a beautiful young woman struggling to
earn money, I do not think I would have a problem
dancing topless to earn $10, 000 a week.

Of course, the real test is not whether I would do it
(I'm a man and therefore can't accurately weigh the
situation). The real test is whether I would be fine
if I walked into a strip club only to see my daughter
on a table top, dancing in front of five drooling men
as they eargerly urge her to shed even more of her
lingerie. On the flip side, if I needed money and had
the body and looks (and opportunity) to be a male
stripper, earning as much as the women do, the choice
would be easy.

What do you think? Would you be a stripper? Would you
be ok if your sister or daughter was one? Does
morality have anything to do with money making? Is
stripping immoral (our grandmothers used to walk
around topless in their day. In fact they were even
more seductively dressed that the most daring twenty year
olds today. In a capitalist society isn't it only
right they get paid for it?)? If a woman's body is her
greatest asset (after her mind... obviously:), doesn't
it make sense that she use it to make money? Does a
woman have any excuse to be broke? Is there
a parallel we can draw for men?

NB: Even though I mentioned Ki-Toy Johnson, she is an
actor and [as far as I know] has never been a stripper.

update: Check this video for a peak into the business.

Men are Simple... Let's Not Complicate Issues

2006-01-01T23:47:00.000+03:00

In the last post on why men dog, my good friend distilled the theory of man (as distinct from woman) into one simple concept: sex!

I was shocked when one of the commenters, who I believe is a man, argued against the thrust of the post. Afterwards it hit me: Some men have been convinced that they are complex creatures. For ages women have tried to get us in touch with our sensitive side, to the point where we've actually began to believe them and the media. Then, in an amazing example of synchronicity I came along a post on radical simplicity. I've shamelessly quoted the whole post below. Women, please listen: We men are hopelessly simple. We are not as complex or hard to please as you are. It's all black and white (mostly white:))with us:

Couple of nights ago, I caught the notorious comedian Dave Chapelle delivering his stand up routine in which he spoke passionately and convincingly about the need for radical simplicity. While talking about how most women are lamenting the death of chivalry, Chapelle remarked how it is they, women, who actually killed it. He blamed women-centric media (actually, women’s magazines) for writing phony articles about men and their needs. You see, women, said Dave, know absolutely nothing about men. And not knowing anything about the real needs of most men, they ruin everything by fantasizing about what is it that men truly want. These fantasies then get published in high circulation women’s magazines, which most women read and then form completely screwed opinions on how to deal with their men. Not surprisingly, this resulted in the death of chivalry, as men gradually shied away from the time tested principles governing the gentlemanly behavior.

Chapelle related how he recently saw a women’s magazine in his girlfriend’s apartment, which had the following headline on its cover: “100 Ways To Please Your Man”.

This is where Dave made his plea for radical simplicity. I’ll paraphrase here, but in a nutshell, here is what he said:

It is totally unreal to blab on about hundred ways to please a man. In reality, there are only four ways that a woman can please her man:

1. Perform oral sex on him (Dave used a bit juicier language here, but you get his drift)
2. Play with his testicles a bit (again, imagine a bit juicier language here)
3. Make him a sandwich
4. Talk less

So there you have it, in a nutshell, a radically simple list of only four ways a man will get full satisfaction from his woman. Basically, anything above and beyond these four activities will pretty much fail to impress most men. So, the advice is to stick with the radical simplicity and forsake all the unnecessary complications.

My Dream Woman

2005-12-30T09:06:00.000+03:00

This picture is worth a thousand words....my dream woman is a true book slut.

Why Men Dog

2005-12-14T17:51:00.001+03:00

After doing some extensive research I discovered that there is only one reason why men cheat on their lovely women. The mama watotos.

Sex.

Many people will come up with many physchological studies and all these hypotheses.
1. Boredom
2. There more women than men!!!
3. Ego
4. She cheated on you(revenge)
5. Lack of Variety
6. The Love has died...

But all these are just cover ups to the real reason.
Which is.
The man is not getting enough sex to keep him faithful. To keep him sane!

When a woman assumes her position in a man's life. Her fulfilment is:

+ Having him come home and look into her eyes.
+ Having the man repair the broken down sink.
+ Opening for her doors
+ Appreciating her efforts.
+ Commending her making her hair in a particular way.
+ Listening to her bitch about her friends, workmates and life.

This is sex to a woman.

So once she has established herself and is getting all these things(plus others I may have not included) the woman is complete. Sex is work.
Plus she could get pregnant!
It is risky!
Plus she is not in the mood!
Or she is tired...

All kinds of reasons and excuses.

A man on the other hand. Fuels his life tank with good sex. This is a strange tank I may add. It can never get full. But it empties up very quickly.

All men expect at least to have sex twice in a day. And escape for a sex retreat once in a month where sex could go on for the whole day.

obviously women do not appreciate this.

So unless he can crudely fill his own tank is some way or another... a man has little choice really.

Of course we cannot blame the woman... don't get me wrong. I mean she is tired, having her Ps, gave birth some time this year, is not in the mood...

This is purely to clarify why for those you are in doubt.

Falling Out of Love

2005-12-07T07:41:00.000+03:00

Ladies, have you ever fallen out of love with a man? What causes it? How does it happen?

McDonalds...McVampire...What?

2005-10-31T23:46:00.000+03:00

Ok.. I know guys are really anti McDonald's these days, but this is absurd!!!

I personally understand the negative sentiment against McDonalds. However, I do not agree with it totally. McDonald's has been instrumental in teaching the world about entrepreneurship and franchise marketting.

I'm a big fan of Ray Kroc (the man who started it all!)... So enamoured was I that I posted a review of his autobiography here. It's a truly inspiring story with crucial lessons for all of us who are venturing into our own enterprise.

In summary.. McDonald's R00lz!!!

Mashup: [the real] Yoda Strikes Back

2005-10-29T12:19:00.000+03:00

This has to be the craziest mashup I've ever seen. It makes use of some storm troopers and the famous star wars character: Yoda (which also happens to be my pen name). Check it out. It really kicks ass...

Here's the link

Dating Patterns.... what?

2005-10-29T01:14:00.000+03:00

This is just absolutely funny. I guess it will make more sense to those of us who study technology architecture.... Still, it will provide a laugh all around. Without further ado, here's the link.

What cracked me up is the dating patterns relationship diagram:

Sex in the Graveyard

2005-10-28T14:12:00.000+03:00

Where's the best place to have sex? either from imagination, experience or just critical thought - in the bedroom with the curtains drawn door locked lights off inside the covers clothed everywhere except the gonads, or when riding roller coaster, in the grave yard at night using the tombstone as the bed post and using UV light in that darkness (you know!! achi achi!) or in the streets at night in a phone booth in say Kenyatta Avenue...

Two Words!

2005-10-27T14:07:00.000+03:00

If you were asked to describe yourself using 2 words, which 2 words would you use?

After musing about it for 10, 30, 60..mins, the exercise asked that you take 10mins, the 2 words I came up with were 'Independent' and 'Carefree'.

Carefree, Ambitious, Cold, Seductive..the 2nd word kept changing..can't be sure ..but 'Independent' for sure!

I flirtered with putting down my own 2 words, that describe each of you - as you appear to me, then I rethought, nah!

What about it guys, which 2 words?

Movie Review : The Notebook

2005-10-24T21:52:00.000+03:00

This has to be the best movie this year. This is a movie so
loaded with emotion that tears still cloud my eyes as I
write this.

The story is about a couple, Noah and Allison, who, as
teenagers, discover first love. Their love for each other
is breathtaking and it spans the entire breadth, depth and
height of their lives.

The story is so well told that I wouldn't attempt to ruin
the movie by giving my interpretation of it here. This
movie is about true love. A love that fills one so
completely as to give life new meaning, purpose and
fulfillment.

This movie will inspire those who have become jaded with
love. In a world where heartbreak is the norm and our lives
are dominated by a perpetual emptiness punctuated by short
meaningless trists with people we hope are our soul
mates.

In such a world, it's hard to believe that anyone can find
true love. It's hard to imagine that we can actually marry
someone who we never tire of. Seeing someone every morning three hundred
and sixty five days of the year every year of one's life is
often viewed as the ultimate chore. That perception is far
from the truth.

When one meets their better half, their whole being is
emancipated. Waking up everyday to see the one you love is
far from torture. It's a welcome reprieve
after walking around for years as half a person. When your
soul mate travels or leaves for work early, the moment you
wake up is one filled with brief anxiety and a slight
emptiness. You ask;

"Where is my other half?"

This movie tells that story. The story of completion. The
story of discovering that there is truly no greater purpose in
life than to spend that life dedicated to the service of
one you truly love. To give up all you are to become who
you should be, all through love.

The Billionaire path is one that has precious little time
to spend on that risky investment called love. I rarely
have time simply to go out and meet potential soul
mates let alone spend time with the lady that I am
truly attracted to. This movie provides a poignant
reminder that the investment spent in search of love is not
in vain. The journey, and not the end, is the reward.
For those who do find love, they will accelerate even
faster along the Billionaire Path.

True love is empowering, motivating, inspiring and
constantly energizing. The Billionaire path requires it
as a necessary condition for ultimate success

Republished here from Billionaire Businessman.

That's just wrong!

2005-10-21T17:40:00.000+03:00

Something I heard on radio...2 lesbian women wanted a child and got a sperm donor (a man of course!) so that they could have the child they wanted.

Several months later, they are suing him for child support!

Whatever their reasons, that's just wrong.

Ah! Humour

2005-10-21T17:31:00.000+03:00

Recently I've gone out quite abit and meet new people, mostly guys and come to the conclusion that humour is a really attractive trait.

Out of all the guys I've met lately the ones that stand out are the ones that had a wicked sense of humour! The ice was broken very fast, and the evening continued without any akward gaps of silence, polite conversation, so what do you do? (I truly hate that question!) time flew and before I knew it, it was 4am in the morning and at the end of the evening I felt like I'd known them forever.

To confirm that it wasn't just by chance I had the pleasure of meeting the same guys again and the same thing happened. I couldnt' stop laughing, and you all know when you get me started it's like a river that has burst it's banks, I can go on and on like a duracell battery..and time flew and before I knew it, it was 4am in the morning.

It's not enough that you have the right ambiance, the right music, good food, drinks flowing..for me, a man with a sense of humour is my weakness!

Maasai Market

2005-10-11T17:39:00.000+03:00

Today I decided to stroll to dusty Maasai market and pick a thing or two.
As usual I was met with an assortment of bright coloured clothes and beaded leather.
I must commend them for the sculptures, they have lovely wood sculptures and carvings!

The clothes on the other hand... are for an occasion.
An African night.
Nothing more.
For example: There are these belts with beads that start falling out before you even give the seller money! You can see the centipede lipped boy is as hungry as hell and you want to give him loaf, but you guy... the thing is just too tired.
the inside part of the belt is rough with strings that seems to have been purposely made to peel the skin off your hips! if you intend to wear the belt in the nude.
I was about to do my usual stress test of garments - trying to pull it apart with as much force as I can- but clearly they would not have held.
So I mean it is great that people are making money, actuall a living! off these things...
But what happened to the quality? morals?
I mean spears, back in the day, had notches to show the warriors prowess; this obviously means that they lasted through battles. which = years. Many of them.
I am sure there are some that were passed down from generation to generation.
I know someone among the crowd would like to argue that Africans do not have high tech machines to make good products but you do... please appreciate the fact that the best leather shoes in the world are in fact hand made! Italian shoes.
We have a long way to go.
The upside is that this presents very interesting opportunities for people who are serious about taking African design to another level.

On a side note I really went down there to look for something dark... like the skull of a hyena reduced to fist size... you know... for scaring off evil spirits.
But clearly I will need to go to a witch doctor for this!
Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!

On my Own 2

2005-09-30T14:31:00.000+03:00

Today is my last day at Footman-Walker. I'm now officially doing my own thing.

Just wanted to thank you guys for everything you've done for me (and to me..lol).. I'll keep posting on this blog. In fact, the number of my posts is likely to increase exponentially.

Stay Away.. The Devil's Spawn Lives Here

2005-09-28T12:54:00.000+03:00

Some men are fatally flawed. I am one of them... I'm not an apologist for our breed. I wouldn't seek to defend them in any capacity... This is a short tale from our story.

If you saw me in the streets, you'd think I'm a composed being. You may even think I'm average. I dress average. More often than not, I dress worse than average, I look average, have average height and my voice is average. Nothing about me stands out. I'm not the fittest of men, I'm not the healthiest.

I smoke socially and when I'm stressed I smoke more frequently. I have an average build. You see me and you never remember me... Like the smoke from my lungs, I appear briefly and then I'm gone.

We never let anybody close to us. We can't. We know who we are and the facade of the average ensures we don't attract undue attention. We have some gifts. Some of us are artists, some are writers, others are businessmen. I, on the other hand, have just one gift: I can seem like I have a gift. I can appear to be an ideal man. It's a gift that gets me where I need to go. But the gift is a curse and it's fatally transparent. When I make the mistake of letting you close, you quickly see the truth.

We spend our lives as introverts. We have to. You may think we're social extroverts by our brash tone, our arrogance and our confident demeanor. But when the dust settles, you see the truth. We prefer the darkness of our lair, the solitude of our somnambulism.

Few of us have average jobs. Most of us have amazing jobs. The majority however, are men who do their own thing. We do our own thing: freelance or personal business, because we prefer to detach ourselves from you. Working together with for you for 5 years means you'll get close. That could be fatal.

I have demons within me. Demons unlike anything Jesus himself could ever imagine or even banish.. The devil and I are friends but not the way you think. He owns me. I'm his minion and his slave. I was born this way. I was born the devil's spawn.

I have hurt endless people. Most times I do it perniciously. I let my knives slip slowly into your flesh... I watch you squirm but I take my time... I slowly slit tendons, I slowly cut veins, I slowly rip each and every portion of your being apart.... You don't even know it till it's too late. It may take me months, maybe years. I don't like what I do... I don't want to do it.. But when I let you bleed, it's the devil who controls my arms... I'm his automaton....

I beg for death.... I'd rather that. Contrary to popular opinion, a fatally flawed man like me feels deeper than most feel. I love deeper than most love and I hurt deeper than most hurt. We are cursed with a black heart that hides a well of pain that goes back all the thousand odd years each of us lives... I beg for death... I'd rather have that than this role.. This life...This death.

I have a gift... That gift is to make you believe I'm the man I always wished I could be.... But if you get close there's nothing but pain that awaits you.... It's not my wish to hurt you, but it's my role... I was born this way, I was born fatally flawed. I was born the devil's spawn.

I'm an automaton... At night, the pain I've meted on those I love haunts me... I hear their gut renching screams... I see their heart rending grimaces.... Their ghosts follow me around and torment me daily...

....Just yesterday night.... Standing atop a balcony, I leaned over the edge and contemplated jumping and falling to my death. Perhaps I could save the world what is to come.... Perhaps I could save my loved ones from the fate they know not. I sometimes feel that I can do good for the world. It's a fallacy. Even when I do good, I do evil...

Stay away... The Devil's Spawn Lives Here... And every day, I beg for death... If you look close, you'll see the devil in my eyes....

Women and Men are equal but not the same

2005-09-27T12:26:00.000+03:00

When men saw women come back from beijing all feisty and rejuvenated... they panicked.
What to do?
Now women have become men so...
But as both sexes learn to respect each other and find and agreeable median to operate in, there some truths even liberty itself cannot change.
I am readging " Men are from Mars - Women are from Venus" - John Gray, and women are truly different from men.
And I was very happy reading masterpiece until... I got the point that goes against everything that makes the difference between success and failure(maybe from a man's world only!)
Positive thinking. Neurolingusitic programming.
Focus on solutions. Positivity tells us let's not bitch about problems, lets focus on solutions and the way ahead.
Apparently this is the wrong approach? Funny.
When a woman talks about a problem I am told that she knows the solution, so she just wants to talk about the problem and feed on the negative impulses emicted from such discussions.
What if she does not know the solution? or if her solution is fucked? do we as the loving men we are...let her stumble?

Interesting blog

2005-09-25T14:52:00.000+03:00

There's a Kenyan chic who's blog, though somewhat corny, is the kind of thing that Wambzz and Lesaan would enjoy. Her writing is quite good, her thoughts exceedingly poingnant.

Without further ado, here's the link Pressure Makes Diamond

The Unromantic Man

2005-09-24T19:39:00.000+03:00

Of late, I've been thinking about relationships a lot. It's pretty obvious from my recent posts that I'm totally lacking in this field. I am probably the least romantic man on the planet. Any one who's been close to me knows this.

Cosmic Leap recently made mention of the fact that I keep planning for the future and the luxuries I'll shower on my lover when I become great. This prevents me from living in the present. As a result I do nothing to build the relationship in the present but constantly work on a future that is yet to happen.

I've been told this by a married couple close to my heart and that pretty much finalised it. I simply don't know how to make a girl feel special. I used to think that studying the finer elements of bedroom bliss and being a hard working man were enough. I was obviously wrong.

Therefore, I throw this question out to the ladies: Wambzz and Lesaan. How can I make a woman feel special? What are the small things I can do? What are the big things I can do? What should I never forget to do? How do I know when I'm failing in this all important department?

There's a Time for Honesty and A Time for Honesty

2005-09-21T14:33:00.000+03:00

More people than I imagine read the posts on this blog. As I result I got a lot of pushback from my previous post. Friends sent me private mail, others were pissed that I blog naked, and so on.

My Lies
The most important piece of information I got, was during a four hour phone call with one of my "teachers" who kept me awake from 1am to 4am today morning. I was verbally beaten up about the lies in the previous post.

The lies, were primarily about the subject of the post. I've realized that my recent depressed state has led me to colour everything I say with dark shades of yellow, grey and black. I have realized that the world I was seeing was not real.

Allow me, in this post, to tell the truth:

I Was Full of Crap
Just typing that was painful... But the truth always is painful. When I really thinking about my less than stellar love life, I realize that I can be defined by one word: Mistakes. I make many of them, frequently.... Repeatedly... The worst part about it is that given the frequency of my mistakes, one could easily believe that they're intentional.

Not many people who really get to know me can stand my mistakes. As a result I often try to keep people at a safe distance. I'm often promised that if I open up, my mistakes will be accepted. Not true! I'm not sure there is a human alive who can stand my little idiosyncrasies. The default personality I have just isn't good enough for public display. So I hide it and use the other persona, the alter ego.

I Was Ungrateful
Considering how I've lived, I wonder how I could sound so negative. I'm am the most blessed person on the planet. In truth, that relationship was far from the way I described. I made it sound like I was never happy. I made it sound like, it was a labour of love marked by my sadness and stress. In short, I lied.

The truth, is that those months were the happiest times in my life. Never have I felt more complete. Never have I felt more fulfilled. We spend our entire lives searching for meaning, prodding in the darkness hoping to strike that pot of gold that will reveal to us why we were actually placed on the planet. I am one of the few men to have found it, through the love of another.

During that time, I was unstoppable. I had infinite power, infinite energy. Every step of mine was powered by a rocket fuelled by that elixir of love. Every movement of my feet was a step so powerful it turned concrete into sand. I'd wake up in the morning and fly out of my bed. The sun would greet me with the most lovely smile. The birds would sing with me as I walked to the bus stop. The wind would fill my sails and send me forth onto the sea of life like an albatross through the sky.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, I got so enveloped in my world that I built an wall around me. The wall was impenetrable. I can imagine that everyone around me felt alienated. In truth, my ambition devoured me so completely that only hindsight provides me with a clear picture.

I can't remember ever earnestly thanking her for all that she was doing for me. I can't remember ever showing my gratitude. That one month when I went into work overdrive was the one that did the most damage. How did I let things get so bad? How? How could I have been so blind?

The bottom line is that she was perfect (Update:Obviously I've lied again... no one is perfect and to make someone think they are is absolutely dangerous. My experience has been that if you convince someone they are perfect then they are totally blind to the times they hurt you. They become convinced that they are always right and you are wrong. They completely forget that love is about realizing that both lovers hold swords and both hold shields. Both do harm, some more than others. The point of love is to make each other stronger by healing each others wounds, not completely denying all that was. The most important thing in love is compromise.)

I can say that without fear. I can say that because I know it is the truth. How could I ever distance myself from perfection? Am I mad?

I Was Too Bloody Arrogant
Perhaps it's my Luo heritage. But that's a lame excuse. Reality is that I'm often too arrogant for my own good (Cosmic Leap, stop nodding in agreement!). This is one flaw I'm determined to correct even if it costs me my life...

I often sound condescending without intending to sound that way. It's just one of those annoying flaws I've always had.. But I'm fixing it and I think I'm mostly rid of it....

I'm Learning
Cosmic Leap taught me to always strive for perfection. This perfection is a trait that I have been striving for all my life. That I haven't achieved it yet is not important. Perfection is a journey, not an end in itself.

Make no mistake. I am going to evolve into a better and better person with every moment that passes. Those close to me are not experiments or test beds on which I pour my flaws in order to see how the chemicals react! Those close to me, are the very people who've got me where I am. Without my friends, without my previous relationship, I would not be as mentally or spiritually strong as I am now.

I have been forged and tempered by everything that has happened to me. It is all for the better.

I'm tremendously grateful
I have indeed lived a perfect life. I understand that only those who practice gratitude can receive the best. Consider the friend I described some time ago. I've never seen him sad.

More importantly, consider Lesaan. She has been promoted more times this year than the sun has risen. Never once have I seen her sad. There's a relationship between her meteoric rise and her sunny disposition. That relationship is not coincidental. It is fundamental to success. Compare her to an equally\harder working colleague who's disposition is always glum, poker faced and sad. You'll notice that their bank balances are as different as their moods with Lesaan's in the higher reaches of 6 figures and the other in the lower reaches of the thousands....

I therefore realize that I have to really be grateful for all I've been given. I really am grateful, from the bottom of my heart. I'm simply too blessed not to be grateful.. No man alive has seen the things I have, no God in heaven has experienced the joys I have. I'm so uniquely blessed that I cannot help but be completely and honestly grateful. No one now or ever, will be able to perceive the sheer wonder of the experiences I've had courtesy of one person.

I'll NEVER Forget
I could never forget. I wouldn't even try to. There's simply too much value in the memory for me to forget. I imagine that this was the same situation Lesaan found herself in.

People spend their whole lives trying to get to feel even an ounce of love. So even if we get heartbroken in the end, why should we try to forget such a wonderful moment? They only come once in a lifetime or never.

I think we should embrace those memories and play them over in our minds in full technicolour detail. ~~Dance in your memories, laugh in your dreams and cry as you relive those wonderful moments~~. Feel grateful that you were chosen to share happiness with another person, even if it was only for a time.

Most importantly, keep your mind open to spending such moments with that person again. Realize that though you may still feel deeply for the same person, love is a 2 way street and if they don't feel the same then your feelings are in vain. We're often told that we should move to another and forget the past. Don't do it! At least don't hurry to do it. Embrace those moments, give the other person time and if you really loved each other, you will come back together. If the cosmos wills it, the two of you will be joined once more.

Too much blood on my sleeves
So there it is! My heart bleeding as it is on my sleeves. I feel so much happiness now that I know that nothing bad has really happened to me. The recent wave of depression that captured me was simply because I had neglected to think in the proper way and act in the appropriate manner. I've made mistakes but life is all about the inches that make the mile, the pain of that inch, fighting and clawing with our fingernails for that inch and having second chances....

....Life is perfect... And as Wambzz said, it's better to have loved than not at all....

Wild Roman Horses and Heartbreak

2005-09-08T23:35:00.000+03:00

Jaded... Fucking Jaded
Today... I'm jaded... I've been jaded for a while... this isn't the normal me... this isn't the Billionaire Businessman. Today I descend to the depths of depression... I can't helping wading in these dark murky waters.... I try to work... I try to beat my body and mind into submission by working with no sleep but there seems to be no escape from what I feel...

Just a minute ago, while hacking away to drown my mind and listening to the blaring sounds of Kanye West to drown my soul, I found myself overcome by a wave of pain. Just a minute ago I broke into tears that I couldn't control.....

....Fuck it...I'm jaded....

I'm heartbroken just like Lessan was some time ago.. Lesaan asked if it's possible to heal a broken heart. I'll answer with the wisdom that comes with hindsight: IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!. One shouldn't even try to. Bear those scars of love proudly and know that they'll never heal... they will bleed and sore for eternity. They shall be the mark that you dared to love and you lost. They shall be the mark that you are strong enough to be damaged in war and still stand...

Small Changes
The memory of a lost love is too heavy for my shoulders to bear. My life alwasys goes through this systemic destroy and rebuild phases. Recently, I'm forced to remember that this may well be another one of them. I should have seen the signs... My increasing dissatisfaction with Footman-Walker had to come to a head at some point. This week it culminated in me doing what I had earlier planned and handing in my resignation letter. I should have read the signs and known that when my life starts raising conflict between me and everyone close to me then another change-phase has begun.

Heartbreak
What does one do when the one you love loves you no more? What do you do when she decides that:

The spark we initially had is gone..

This was my experience at a time not too far into the past. I couldn't and still can't understand it. I love(d) the woman with all my heart... I had even proposed! (yeah.. I know, go ahead and laugh at my expense).. I had promised that I'd traverse the Billionaire path and bring her back a pot of gold with which to fuel the building of our future. Word from the wise to young lotharios: Do not promise a woman that your net worth will consist of 6 zero's in 6 months unless you are damn well sure that you've got real hair on your chest.

But what was I to do? The wound still rankles. I remember the day like it were happening now:

She says that I can't give her the life she wants. I try to retort. She reminds me of my failed promises and ever changing deadlines. I try to retort but find nothing to say. She reminds me that I'm always working and I never have time for her. I scream inside!!!

I'm working to buy you Nauru, I say internally. Of course I'm always working and our time together suffers. It has to... I'm fucking working 20 hours a day so that I can earn 7 figures. How many 20 year olds do you know who work 20 hours a day, are building their own business, are still in school and want to get married within a year? All these words evaporate before they make it out of my constricted lungs... I feel defeated.. I can't even cry. I try to be a man infront of her. I try to take it well.. I try not to make a scene.

She accuses me of always being tired and in dire need of sleep whenever were together (hence my previous question about how to keep the bedroom exciting). Of course I'm often tired. I sleep less than 4 hours a day for Christ's sake! I'm working... I'm working for us. I'm working for YOU!!!! I know I'm at fault... but why can't I just chill with the woman I love.. why can't I just relax without being judged! I don't judge you... please don't judge me... Why can't I come home and find peace instead of stress awaiting me... Why can't you just love me for me? Why do I have to become Joe or Tom or Ben? Why can't I just be me around you? Why can't I be loved with all my numerous flaws... why?. why?...

She reminds me of all the dates I've missed because I had to work? I'm embarassed.. I'm at fault.. It seems I always am.. I guess she's grown weary of trying to make a right man out of a man who's moving left...

If her eyes could see, she'd have known that I love(d) her with my all. I'd have died for her in an instant without asking questions. I'd have taken a bullet with joy if only to save her and preserve her life. Everything in my life.. From my walk to my talk to my breath to my thought to my hustle to my work to my passion to my energy..everything and more was all due to her. I lived for this one woman... I was created, conceived and born to serve only her... but I guess women don't want to be queens and they don't want a man who adores them enough to be a subject, a slave, a lover, a brother, a friend and a husband...perhaps my breed of man, like the Dodo, is extinct even before we get a chance to exist.

Wild Horses
She took my heart and ran away. She did it violently... unfeelingly...unflinching... and I thought that I was cold! I felt like a victim chained to two charriots of wild horses. I felt like my heart was being torn apart....I could feel the knife sink in slow... I could feel it being malevolently and slowly twisted to make sure that every artery and vein was torn and damaged... I could feel the pain tear my soul in half. I begged for someone to punch my chest hard to beat the broken pieces of my heart back togetether... when she dumped me... A man died... A soul was extinguished...

I walk around hollow these days and even the thought of getting close to someone else sends a chill of pain through my heart that stops me dead in my tracks... Perhaps I'll never be able to give my heart to anyone else. How can I give what I don't even have? My heart was forcefully taken from me... a long time ago...

So that's why I'm jaded... But not for long.. Fuck it.. I'm a worker.. I'm a machine.. I'm built to withstand lots of pressure and to persist in working and creating.... perhaps I'll never have my dynasty.. perhaps even the woman I later dedicate my being to will also ignore my fervent desire to serve... perhaps I'm not built to be in a relationship...

....That's ok.. my heart is somewhere across town.. In an urn underneath someone's bed, burried with the relics of her past...

....That's ok... I'm a worker bee...we weren't built to mate...

Home and Away

2005-09-01T11:02:00.000+03:00

Home and Away

I have twice been asked about my preference for staying at home or moving to a foreign country and both this time my answer has been an emphatic ‘No’ and in my head a loud and clear ‘Hell No!’ almost like a knee jerk reaction. But as I said my last Hell No! recently and was asked to give reasons as to why I couldn’t even consider a move to a more developed country, the reasons I gave, ears sounded flimsy. Which got me thinking, why won’t I even consider living in another country? My reason have so far being the weather, having to start all over again socially, having no friends I could depend on close by but when I re-think they are not real solid reasons. For one, I could adopt to the weather, even putting into considering that old ‘can’t teach an old dog new tricks’, I could make friends eventually, mhhh.., and given that I’m the kind of person who would hobble on a twisted ankle and get myself to hospital, torture myself when I have a ‘heart ache’(no not from a broken heart actual heart pain) and wave away any offers to see a doctor, wait for morning when woken up in the middle of the night with what I’m sure at the time is the pain of a close to bursting appendicitis, that can’t be it. It can’t be the need to have family close to me as anywhere who knows me well with tell you my aversion to family and how rare I see any of my relatives, so no that’s can’t be it,. Being close to those in my personal life, significant other, love of my life, chocolate drop, nah, not that either, so no that can’t be it.

The things I know for certain: I know I long for home when I’ve been away from for too long (no, not 6 months, 6 weeks), and I derive a lot of pride (my heart swells) when I see anything from home, t-shirt with the flag, song’s from home, browsing to the website to have a peak at what’s going on (even when I don’t normally care for the stuff when it’s happening around me!) and easily forgot what it is I find wrong with home to begin with.

There probably opportunities that I’m not looking at that would be obvious if I moved or destiny is to me every so often and will soon go quiet..don’t know..So what is it that gives me that knee jerk reaction? I don’t know but I need to find out.

So if either of you had the option to be home or away, which would you choose and why?

Let's Talk

2005-08-08T19:07:00.000+03:00

You meet a person and say, "Hi, how are you?" , "I'm fine and you", "I am also very fine".
"How are the kids?" "They are okay, working hard in school, we hope for the best." "And yours? Yes, they are all okay".
"How is life?" "Life is Very hard, But we are struggling"....
You know same old talk.

Clearly we just end up playing the motions of conversation.

No one is really saying anything. Mostly you are just told what you want to hear so that you can answer back what the other person wants to hear. In fact
want is a not the word- I meant expects!

There those people that we really would like to talk to and you know - feel them.
But we find ourselves pulling the small old tired lines from the book of overused and misused greeting protocols yet again.
So...

How do we begin small talk? and keep having different ways of starting it?
Plus how do we get to know how a person really is or should be bother?

Furniture Love and Positioning

2005-08-06T15:32:00.000+03:00

My goodness!!! this chair absolutely takes the prize... this is the quintissential definition of zen by design. I've studied tantra (and continue to) for quite some time and I've never come across a single piece of furniture that is as enabling as this one.

I think this chair was first mentioned on this blog, though no link was provided.

For those who want even more information on how to use this erotic piece of furniture to even greater effect, you can read here and even here.

Lesaan Missing In Action

2005-08-01T14:45:00.000+03:00

Well.. rumour has it that Lesaan overindulged in absolute debauchery,hedonism and drinking this past weekend....

Apparently she was so drunk that she couldn't even get on the plan and thus missed her flight.

Other reports indicate that she lost track of time shopping at duty free and suddenly found that a day had come and gone.. Greeted by the morning she realized that she had missed her flight....

So,it turns out that Lesaan is MIA... hopefully she's having more fun than we are...

Can someone please confirm what's going on....

Violent Blog!

2005-07-21T21:58:00.000+03:00

Can you believe that our site has been marked as violent by cyber patrol! achi!
Not sexually perverse
Not nudity
Not drug use

Not even strong language....

But violence.

Presposterous!

Challenging August

2005-07-21T19:13:00.000+03:00

August marks the beginning of a challenging month.

I have mixed feelings though..can't wait for the challenge, but terrified of failing either way can't wait to get started!

Happy Birthday Wambzz

2005-07-18T11:29:00.000+03:00

One of the most amazing women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting is now one year wiser and looks 5 years younger... I could swear that she's not a shade older than 24....

Happy Birthday Wambzz.. we all love you...

The Coolest Tennis Court Ever

2005-07-17T22:44:00.000+03:00

And yes.. it's in Dubai...

Hustle Non-Stop

2005-07-13T11:43:00.000+03:00

"Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits."

~ Thomas Edison (1847-1931)
American inventor & industrialist

2 feet, 6 feet and the Road Less Travelled

2005-07-12T13:28:00.000+03:00

2 Feet
For those close to me it's a pretty public secret that I intend to stop consulting for what I like to call my best client.

Initially, this was meant to happen last month. My business partner convinced me to wait till the initial launch of our first products before I left. He further convinced me to be pragmatic and realize that we need the capital I get from my sole client.(95% of my income is invested in my business).

So the deadline suddenly became flexible. One month has become two has become three....What strikes me the most is a question that lingers and nags my mind day and night:

Why do I fear to stand on my own two feet?

Yes... I've said it... Yoda, the hot blooded raging pantheon of ambition actually feels raw atavistic fear.... I know it can't be fear of failure. After all failure does not exist... so what is it?

Why is it that even though I am guaranteed millions (nay billions) of dollars and sure success I still hesitate and use the excuse that: "I've been advised to wait by someone I trust".

Why is it that even though I've been promised that beautiful women and champagne will fall from the heavens if I walk out of this office right now, I still hesitate like a new born calf struggling to find it's feet?

The reality, however is that it's not fear of failure that paralyses me. Quite the opposite. My dominating fear is the fear of success. When I think about it, I'm probably not alone.

I fear that I'll actually leave this life I know so well... this life of mediocrity and communist uniformity. This life where all that makes me stand out is the fact that I can't stand out. Like a chameleon I blend into the bleak background of underachievers that traverse and dominate the streets of Nairobi. Like a weakling, I congregate with the masses, the 80% who produce 20% of the economy's total output. Like an ant I seek to become more like the rest, I seek to lie on my belly and let my two feet atrophy.

6 Feet
Acceptance is the first step to healing. I've accepted my fear? So how do I heal. How do I accelerate myself into powerful action far beyond anything I've previously done or envisioned?

My destiny is to change the entire face of Africa. I can paint the picture. I have seen the vision. God has whispered the truth in my ear. This is my time. I can't lose. I can't die. I can't be defeated. A bullet through my skull couldn't stop me. This is all veritable fact.

I know that if I do not make this move soon, I'll be confined to death. My grave will be unceremoniously prepared and the mud that covers my corpse will be eager to rot my flesh before I can polute the earth with my feeble indecision. Death is far more than physical. Death occurs mentally before it affects any other faculty. Death can be no worse than the demise of a dream that is tossed in a virgin field ,left to lie fallow and then forgotten for eternity.

I can't let this dream die. I have to fight to realize the life that I know is destined to be mine. How can I spit at the cosmos and deny what is truly mine?

Now more than ever I know the truth:

If I do not find my two feet, then 6 eager feet will find me.

The Road Less Travelled
My decision has been made and in the spirit of fence sitting, I will appease both my deamons.

My fear of success will be appeased lengthening my truncated calender. My deadline, from today, is 3 months. My daemon that pulls me to success will also be appeased. I will increase my work day from 16 to 20 hours and reduce my sleep by a further 2 hours. In addition, I will sleep one day less during the week i.e I will have at least one 48 hour day every week.

All this time will be spent working and-most importantly-learning all I need to become the man I must be. All my plans are drawn and the mission is clear.

Success will be mine along this road less travelled

President Bush and 50 Cent release a Chart Topping Single

2005-07-12T08:32:00.000+03:00

This is just outrageously funny, turn up the volume and press play.

Best Movie Quote

2005-07-11T13:28:00.000+03:00

I hate being Scottish. We're the lowest of the fucking low, the scum of the earth, the most wretched, servile, miserable, pathetic trash that was ever shat into civilization. Some people hate the English, but I don't. They're just wankers. We, on the other hand, are colonized by wankers. We can't even pick a decent culture to be colonized by. We are ruled by effete arseholes. It's a shite state of affairs and all the fresh air in the world will not make any fucking difference.
-
Trainspotting

24

2005-07-11T08:34:00.000+03:00

In my next life I want to be Jack Bauer or at the very least work for CTU! If there is/was a cult for 24 I'd probably have joined up on Saturday night, sometime at 4am when I was done with Season 3, no questions asked!

Of all the seasons I have watched, for me, Season 3 has got to be the best yet. They, creators and producers, got away from the mistakes of Season 2, where they killed Bauer and then resurrected him, and they coupled that with having anything and everything that could go wrong go wrong leaving me exhaused from watching.

In Season 3, they got Jack a partner and finally admitted that even Jack couldn't do everything himself. The stuff that went wrong, went wrong, for me realistic wrong. And finally the President became a politician and got into dirty politics, the clear line of wrong and right not quite clear for the infalliable David Palmer.

So now I'm in search of my next fix, Season 4!

Illuminated Showerheads

2005-07-06T07:55:00.000+03:00

Does this rock or what? I've got to get myself one\two pronto especially now that I'm remodelling.

Weddings

2005-07-05T08:28:00.000+03:00

Usually I don't attend weddings, have given them a wide berth for quite a while and wild horses wouldn't have dragged me to one. It was for a simple reason - weddings were all the same, tired! When you didn't know the the bride or groom you didn't care what was going on, all you did was eat - the same menu at each wedding, drink sodas and socialize with friends (the reason you attended in the first place), and chat all thro the entire ceremony.

So I made an exception this weekend and attended one, after a 2 year break how bad would it possibly be? And it wasn't really.

It was a garden wedding, the service?All of 1 hour, the reverend/pastor, priest? very humorous - in short a beautiful ceremony. The bride was all decked out in a beautiful gown, the bridesmaid in pink, the bridal cars? beautiful mercs - there was a gorgeous convertible we considered jumping into and simply driving away but restrained ourselves.

Then came the reception - the food was far from mediocre! There was roast meat from a whole cow, yes Wambzz a whole cow, it was being roasted at the venue, kinda like what kenchic does but in a much bigger thingamajig! and there was pork - now that I liked, roasted chicken - felt nothing, the vegetables - mushrooms, cauliflower, french beans - thoroughly excited me! And so I enjoyed the food. And there was desert - the usual fruit salad, cakes etc.
Then there were waiters, wearing what appeared to be kanzus who were going round the tables asking 'utatumia nini?', coasto speak for 'What would you like to drink?. The choices, beer or wine - red or white, for the ladies. Yes, Wambzz, the alchocol free for all guests. Later on when it was time for cake cutting there was coffee and tea to have with the cake. And no, it wasn' t the one piece that's passed around it was a plateful of cake for each table. In short - the wedding was really nicely done.

Other than the food and drinks, was the wedding any different from others? No, everyone who wasn't related to the bride or a close friend was simply socialising, catching up with everyone else. And yes, it was a chance to meet new people. Wambzz, weddings are still one of the places to hook up nice looking single jamaas. There was quite a number of nice looking could have been single men and there was no shortage of chances to flirt. At some point it got noisy and people had to be asked to tone it down!

So was this wedding any different for me? No, I didn't know the bride and groom, didn't care for the speeches and enjoyed myself thoroughly because of the company I had. And I still maintain that the only people who care about what's going on in a wedding are the bride and groom, their relatives, all 100 of them, and close friends.

The rest of us are simply there for the ride! Yes?

Rape

2005-07-04T08:36:00.000+03:00

Rape is without a doubt every woman's greatest fear. My friends and I have discussed this topic now and again about what one needs to do to protect onself but have yet to come up with an full proof way of doing so, and so it still remains our greatest fear. This morning I had cause to revisit that fear, after I heard on radio of 4 women who were gang raped this weekend.

I will never for the life of me understand why men rape women and what we have to do with men's war games. Only yesterday I was reading about the rebels fighting in Congo. The victims of the war? Yep, the women of Congo. What they have to do with the fighting between the rebels, I don't know. For these women, rape is an everyday ordeal, age doesn't even matter to this rebels, any one they come across with a vagina qualifies from 7 year olds, who are held hostage for days and gang raped, to 70 year old women. According to the article, coming across a 70 year old woman is rare..they've all being killed.

The atrocities being committed again the Congo women are unspeakable, mothers being raped in front of theirs sons, sons being asked to rape their own mothers with guns held to their heads..why? because the rebels are at war. The 2 times now I've watched and now read about the Congo women, my heart has gone out to them. Closer home, cattle rustlers after stealing the cattle, rape the women, thieves going to steal in a home and raping the women. Why? Worse still is the justification that people, often men sometimes fellow women, attempt to make, what was she doing out that late, why was she wearing clothes that skimply, trousers that tight..she was asking for it.

For the Urban woman, rape is often as a result of a matatu that you took to get home getting 'jacked', the car you're driving is 'jacked' or when walking home from the bus stop, down a dimly lit path and someone jumps out of the bushes and accosts you.

To be raped in your own home, taken from your bed, has got to be the most devasting feeling ever. Even after choosing the place you live in carefully in an attempt to be safe, well lit estate, electric fence, panic button..all this didn't help the 4 women..at the end of it all, even after 'co-operating' with the thugs, as everyone advises, they still got raped.

That the women of Congo, Kenya, everywhere in this world, find inner strength within themselves to move on after such an atrocities goes to show how resilent women are.

That is what brought it closer home to me this morning, what made it different from all other rape cases I've read, being told about, listened to. With it came a feeling of helpless and a feeling of slight depression. The fact that the women got raped in their own home, woken up from their own beds, by strangers..where will I ever feel safe again?

Kenyan Muscleman and Leopard Slayer

2005-07-03T23:54:00.000+03:00

Lessan, I had no idea that you were serious when you told me that a 73 year old Kenyan man slayed a leaopard with his bare hands... amazing... Kudos to Kenyan Strength...

Vile creatures

2005-07-03T21:19:00.000+03:00

Are naturally bad? Do we rejoice about other failures and trials?
Isn't this funny as hell!!!?

Do we wish we could kill other people and get away with it? Especially people who look hopeless like beggars and others who seem to be doing to well.
Do we want the biggest piece of cake and curse that we had to share at all?

Do hate when the next woman or man has a bigger car, bigger ass(ladies), fatter wallet, is more fit and muscular(men.. and some women)? Do we not just hate that?
The way some people are always ahead and they seemed like they did not even try? disgusting right?

We wish we could have a big mallet with a large lead head for knocking the heads into the necks of embrass or laugh at us.

Do we wish that everyone could not afford a bicycle as we fly about in our jet - boeing 747?

When we sit back and criticize and cajoule others, it feels good doesn't it?

Don't we just love it when some bastard fucks die?

and the list goes on...

So we are naturally bad aren't we?

Singularity, Completeness and Perfection

2005-07-03T20:27:00.000+03:00

Definitions
Recently, I've been challenged to explain my deepest emotions. I've further been challenged to justify them. I've been challenged to reevaluate them with the wisdom that is engendered by tagging a definition to an emotion. In short, I've been forced to study ontology with an introspective slant and then go about exposing my internal workings in a meaningful way. This should be easy enough for me to do but it is not.

When asked to explain exactly what I'm feeling and then expose this in a language that conforms to another person's world view, a mass of obfuscations and semantic disconnects occur at various levels. I think we all know the situation: I say something, she understands it another way. The result:

Sweetheart, no, I didn't mean it to come out that way....

...Sweetheart...that's not what I meant

This is the intrinsic nature of human communication... there are so many failure points: The language, world-view transposition, semantics, context..... the list is endless....

My solution: Forget words as a useful means of communication, let the vybe between you and your lover transcend words. Instead of explaining, grab her and passionately kiss her as though your life depended on it.... We're hardwired with very effecient supervocal means of communication... this one seems to work best:

The language of passion.

No working this weeknd
For the first time in a long time, I spent my weekend totally at ease and in total restful bliss.

Friday chaos
Friday was chaotic enough. I got to work at a record-breaking 3pm!! (yes, 3 hours before COB). The details of what happened will be left for another day.

In spite of the fitful morning and afternoon, I was fairly pumped and energetic. Friday had the promise of a perfect day and true to form, it didn't dissapoint.

Friday evening
My mission was defined: Relax, relax and then relax some more. I left the office at 7pm. To show my commitment to relaxing, I left without carrying even my trusty laptop (Believe it... I didn't have my laptop with me...I felt....naked...to say the least..)

Everything about the evening was perfect. The weather was chilly but not chilly enough to make one uncomfortable. It was the chilly reassurance that mimics the icy stream that runs up and down one's spine when we intuit that a brief instant in time is the harbinger of a future completely different from the past.

Even ,the Nairobi streets seemed different. The glow of the 'adopt-a-lights' seemed curiously warm and reminiscent of a mother's smile urging a child to wake up and prepare for school. As always, traffic was gridlocked but the typical Nairobi road rage was absent. There seemed to be a unanimous decision by the collective. A decision to make sure that my weekend was perfect, a decision to reward me for my 22hour work days.

I looked and the world was at peace.

Singularity
Have you ever had the feeling that everything is right with the world? That deep overpowering feeing that pervades your very being, washes over your nerves and soothes you is the most therapeutic unguent a human can ever obtain.

It's the mead that the God's drink in the morning. It's the mana that the heavens feast on in the night. It's the kiss of a lover, it's the touch of a woman, the mercy of a queen...

Have you ever had the feeling that one moment in time has rewritten everything in the past and in the future? All your misteps have been corrected. Every error you made is now vindicated by the path that has ensued and the present that the cosmos has created. On Friday, I felt reborn, I felt renewed.... the weary traveller had finally found home...

Perhaps this moment was always the moment. Perhaps it was this that I was born for. Perhaps it is this that defines me. Is happiness a path or a place? Is love a journey or a race? In Sanscrit there is a saying:

You are this,this is that, that is this and that's all there is to say about that

I'm increasingly becoming convinced about the verity of that statement. The cosmos is a union of space and time, self and spirit, one and all, yin and yang, man and woman....

Love
No where is this more true than in the passionate moment of lovemaking....It can't be defined and it doesn't end with the simple termination of the act... it persists, it endures, it strengthens and it reaches. It reaches across distances, it joins souls, it synchronizes the beating of hearts and it merges the breath of lungs...It creates and it destroys.

Love destroys the past. It destroys the pain. It destroys the memory of loss. It purges the brimstone fire of betrayal.

Love creates the future. It creates the joy. It creates the memory of a new present. It brings into existence the pleasure of potent passion. It creates the very fibres that hold one's bones together and prevents one from crumbling into ashes. It picks up the dust of despondence. It mops up the tears of tribulation. With that dust and those tears, it moulds a new being. A being of benevolence. Thus I was created.... this weekend...

All I want to do is to please you.... I come not to hurt you but to help heal you.... I may be transitory, I may be permanent.... my state does not matter... only my duty does.... and my duty is to serve you...

Completeness
Never have I felt more defined and refined. I feel purified but without the typical accompanying loss of dross being filtered out. I am purified by addition. The experience of another being, reaching into my heart and enveloping me in a power greater than any in my previous experience has energized me. The individual is now larger, the collective is now 'more' whole, my heart's jig-saw fragments are pieced back together. I am repaired... the whole is now truly greater than the sum of the parts...

Perfection
All person's are not created equal, yet we all have the ability to attain perfection. I have a long journey yet but the queen of my heart is the paragon of perfection. She is the thesis drawn up by the God's to direct humanity's aspirations. She stands at the helm of the heavenly ship. She triumphs at the peak of the Everest... Her subjects are blessed by the vision of her presence... If I am but a subject to her, then my life has finally begun...

My obscurity can only be explained by stating the truth: Language cannot begin to define the bliss that I'm in.... no language yet made by the tongue of man can define the opient elixir that now courses my veins.... My life has begun and it will never end

... In a breath I gained life, in a night I gained immortality....

Dealing with boredom

2005-07-03T17:42:00.000+03:00

Ok.. last week was really tough but now I'm 100% healed and ready to get back to business. In case you're wondering how I dealt with the coma while trying to work, I'll reveal my secrets: this and this (from here and here)

Midnight Express

2005-07-02T00:31:00.000+03:00

Amazing... the progammed mind!
I had a set of keys that looked more or less like my home keys...
20:00 I left the office and I saw the wood and cotton ony my bed and me in a intertwined passionate reunion.

As usual I took the streets, about me... a lot of make-up and women in it, and big pots carried by men, and blue hooded guards sleeping at work.

No lights at home so I had to walk in the dark,

nothing quite unusual.

bushes and alleys barely covering the soul hunters of the night, and the walking dead eager to get a recruit or a meal!

then there is this dog, fucking crazy animal. It loves barking at me.
The dog gets so excited barking, jumping around and raising its limps, you'd swear it is dancing to "get Low" - Lil jon on fast forward
Of course, all these confidence by this 'beast' is inspired by the powerful steel gate and high stone fence that demacates its territory.

another dark alley and I knock at the gate.

waiting...

and I knock again harder

waiting...

Luckily a paranoid neighbour of mine comes hooting like furiously, like he is desperately trying to knock his steering wheel into his dashboard.

So home sweet home!!!

but before - a hill made of stairs.

Out comes the keys... and a battle of key head and lock orifice ensures before I discover that its the wrong set
I see my home keys several miles away in posta sacco, wondering why the got deserted today.

So well they had to wonder no more.

So the alleys, and the bushes, the dead and the dog... backwards this time.

Then this is where I clearly knew that my ride

is long overdue.

next year is certainly not just a deadline but a cast in stone

The bus stage.

Worst place to be at that H and M of the day.

Every movement of plants, inanimate objects or shadows seemed like a signal for the slipper wearing, 6f' 5, toothless, 5 by 6 by 30 inch dicked fag sex-starved malicous mean hungry pack of 12 rough uncultured murderous thugs to set in on me.

I flamboyantly flagged very car that passed(at night all cars could be matts- you can't see for sure till it's zapped past...)

finally a matt skidded to stop a few paces away and I gobbled up that distance between us in one of my best sprints ever.

Nothing amazing about the ride, just drunks, and women with big sacks of things(tomatoes... maybe)

got spat out into the cbd and I replayed the scene of make-up, hoods and pots.

Funny thing is that there are no lights in the office!!! The sockets are fine so I can switch on the computers. But the lights are dead.

There small green and red lights here and there, light from outside.

Every machine, gadget, window, bulb and mouse seems to be looking at me.

Luckily only a few things have moved on their own.

1. The water dispenser - something within it, maybe bubbles
2. The shadows. from the cars and lights outside.
3. Water from the kitchen sink...

The worst thing to move at night is the window. My experience with this, it is usually accompanied by some weird sounds which seems to translate to

"blooodddd, yessssssss, bloooooooddddddd, wannnnnnntttttttt soooooooouuullll" when it is opening

and

"no escapeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee shhhhhhhhhhhh" when it closes.

But I had to blog anyway since I am here.

It's now 00:40. Got the keys this time.

Can't wait to try out some lucid dreaming.

Writer's Block

2005-07-01T19:59:00.000+03:00

After staring at this screen for a while I remembered something I barely glanced at in
del.cio.us

I am sure you will all also enjoy reading break the block

I will be toying around with css and pictures for our blog, a new style every day! anyway just joking.

Bankelele Absolutely Rocks

2005-07-01T19:25:00.000+03:00

I feel it's only right that I share one of my favourite Kenyan blogs.

I don't know who the author is except that [s]he is a Kenyan. [S]he posts very regularly and seems to be on top of all things business.

For the life of me, I simply can't understand how [s]he finds out all this stuff faster than me. (Okay.. yes my pride is wounded that someone can actually aggregate usefull information faster than I can, but this blog sits on the absolute zenith of Kenyan business publications. I hope he/she never stops publishing.)

So without further ado, here is your link to all things business related with a Kenyan perspective. All hail the great

Bankelele

I've finally finished preparing my email interview for up and coming Kenyan entrepreneurs. Bankele will be receiving a copy on Monday. Hopefully we can discover just who [s]he is and how [s]he became such a guru.

Quote

2005-06-30T08:06:00.000+03:00

Careers, like rockets, don't always take off on schedule. The key is to keep working on the engines.

Devil's Brew

2005-06-29T18:55:00.000+03:00

Moderation? It's mediocrity, fear, and confusion in disguise. It's the devil's dilemma. It's neither doing nor not doing. It's the wobbling compromise that makes no one happy. Moderation is for the bland, the apologetic, for the fence-sitters of the world afraid to take a stand. It's for those afraid to laugh or cry, for those afraid to live or die. Moderation...is lukewarm tea, the devil's own brew."

~ Dan Millman, 21st century philosopher
from The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

Pain Does Not Exist.. Neither Does Suffering

2005-06-29T18:54:00.000+03:00

Pain is a relatively objective, physical phenomenon; suffering is our psychological resistance to what happens. Events may create physical pain, but they do not in themselves create suffering. Resistance creates suffering. Stress happens when your mind resists what is...The only problem in your life is your mind's resistance to life as it unfolds.

~ Dan Millman, 21st century philosopher
from The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

Rest Less...about rats and grains

2005-06-29T14:19:00.000+03:00

It's perhaps the best kept secret that am the most restless creature on the planet... one who could never possibly be satisfied by the status quo... after all I am a full blooded Taurian .

This feature, of what I've goaded myself into believing is a simple personality, is transforming my life at a rate that I could never even have fathomed the moment I breathed my first on this earth. I want so much out of my life and I'm willing to sacrifice anything and almost anyone to get it, paradoxically, including myself.

This becomes even more patent when one finds a friend who approximates my own values. The twin forces intoxicate me and the continual loop of hungry energy only serves to make me even more thirsty to taste my destiny... to be the Billionaire Businessman.

I find myself on the run, I find day and night merging into one; yesterday, today and tommorow meld into one continuum. I can't tell when I sleep and I can't tell when I awake... In all honesty, I'm probably both awake and asleep... at the same time....

The world seems to be moving in slow motion yet rocketting along like greased lightning. I see everything in stereoscopic colourful detail. I see every manifestation of the cosmos like a time delayed camera watching the grass growing... I see it all...

Take, for instance,a close friend of mine who has recently been moving from strength to strength. When I detail his (I'm maintaining anonymity here..lol) increases in income, status, responsibility and personal development and then proceed to plot the path, i discover an exponential growth curve over time. (trust me when I say that my friend doesn't realize this manifestation of perfection but the math speaks for itself). I feel overjoyed that those close to me experience such wonderful realities. And best of all, I'm privy to it... I've been blessed with the best seat to the ultimate theatre: the theatre of success....

I admire my friend's personal strength and the incredible leaps and bounds he has made over time... He's become a leader in his space. Every day I contemplate all that I've seen and i'm in awe.. I have so much to learn yet...

So this post is about 3 things...

1)Life is too short to sleep. The virtue of never sleeping is that I have to live my dreams. Besides, there'll be plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead.

2)I may burn out but before I do that I'll burn up. I will work tirelessly to recreate my friend's growth in my own life...

3)Congratulations to my friend, wherever he may be... Ralph Waldo Emerson once said that

Envy is ignorance, imitation is suicide

For once, I disagree with my teachers. If I can emulate only 20% of what my friend has achieved then I'll have made over 10 billion dollars while at the same time becoming a complete man and model of all that is perfect in society... If this imitation is suicide then I'm willing to die to achieve it....

Boris!

2005-06-29T08:51:00.000+03:00

Coming to work this morning was bliss!

I didn't have to fight with wananchi in the mat to open the window(s) at least a crack! Is it just me or does everyone refuse to open windows because it's cold?

Doesn't matter that the mat is filled with all of 14 passengers, all in warm clothing and the windows are misty! Good knows what would happen if it should one day snow in Nairobi.

Didn't have to mull over the poor excuse of a seat belt and balance the various options of tying, the often, tired, dirty seat belt round my waist; getting my clothes dirty, the fear of a police spot check with my need for protection in case of the unknown.

So yes, I drove myself to work this morning bobbing my head to James Ingram, singing along to the tracks I love and feeling that all was right with the world.

My beautiful car has been christened Boris, Wambzz you undoubtedly understand why, and guys I know cars are 'supposed' to be christened with feminine names but I'm a chic!

Tom Cruise Kills Oprah

2005-06-28T17:48:00.000+03:00

Ok.. this is so funny I just have to share it... Check out this short illustration of remixing at it's best when Tom Cruise Kills Oprah

Boy/Gal etiquette

2005-06-28T08:53:00.000+03:00

Recently I meet this chap, guy, fellow..call him what you like. After a 30min or so conversation and engaging in what felt like a fencing sport on when each of us was available, wednesday? not good for me, friday? prior engagement etc, we settled on a day we were both free and we exchanged numbers. Conclusion? The chap, guy, fellow would call to confirm what time and where we were going to meet on Saturday evening for a drink.

On Friday night at 11:37 I get a text message from the chap, guy, fellow. The message?

'What's up, are we still hooking up tomorrow'? 11:37! Worse still a text message!

Did I reply the text? Yes on Saturday afternoon. My reply? No, I've changed my mind. Any chance I'll be meeting him for a drink in the near future? None.

He's probably called me a bitch for agreeing to meet him and changing my mind, and probably moved on to how chics are as reliable as the metrological dept.

Any chap, guy, fellow who doesn't know that boy/gal etiquette demands that when following up on a first drink or possible date you DON'T EVER send a text message, worse still not the night before you're supposed to meet her. Any self respecting man will call the lady a day or 2 before they are supposed to meet, and not at night during the day!, confirm where they are supposed to meet and the time.

Text message at 11:37! Good God!!

Gentlemen, I thought I would enlighten you incase you find yourself in the same position and wonder what happened after the initial meeting when sooo well.

Big vs small women

2005-06-27T19:42:00.000+03:00

It is a widely accepted belief among men that
sex with small women is better than with large women, they are "known" to be
more ductile, flexible, portable and energtic.
And I am not making this up! This
information has been passed down from so many men, in important discussions
like

What can I do? I don't want to leave her, I love her so much

Should I go for it, I am not
sure I can handle all that

and even

Do I marry her?

Yes it is serious.
A man cannot easily carry around and move a big woman they way he wants...
unless he is like Ronnie Coleman below:
You've have to go into dialogue first
about very turn and then she will think about, then she may say no!!! even if
it is good for her. All this time the moment has gone!
My questions then:
Is it true that small women enjoy better sex that big women?
Most importantly how can men enjoy sex with big women more than with petite
ones?

Quote

2005-06-23T15:00:00.000+03:00

When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his/her dream.

Paul Coelho – The Alchemist.

Wake Up

2005-06-23T11:34:00.000+03:00

"Wake up! If you knew for certain you had a terminal illness--if you had little time left to live--you would waste precious little of it! Well, I'm telling you...you do have a terminal illness: It's called birth. You don't have more than a few years left. No one does! So be happy now, without reason--or you will never be at all."
~
Dan Millman, 21st century philosopherfrom The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

It is all about how we look

2005-06-23T09:48:00.000+03:00

Okay, I agree that, that skin I had applied to our blog was by far the worst! ugliest thing- that anyone has ever even imagined to attempt to conceptualize in his/her/its demented artless mind.

The beauty is that we can style our blog to look the way we want.

Personally I wanted a topless maasai girl holding a spear - showing some ass. at the top left then her twin doing the same at the bottom right.

We can look at creating something that embodies us... and if I get a vote of 4/4 on this, I can start working on it. obviously I don't intend to scare you guys again hence the designs will have to be approved by you guys before we put them up. Then we can vote and pick our clothes for the year.

Ladies? Gentleman?

Your mind

2005-06-23T08:57:00.000+03:00

Your mind is the greatest soap-opera scriptwriter in history. It makes up incredible stories, usually based on drama and disasters, of things that never happened and probably never will.

Mark Twain said it best 'I've had thousands of problems in my life, most of which never actually happened'

Training and managing your own mind is the most important skill
you could ever own, in terms of both happiness and success .

Secrets of the Millionaire Mind - T. Harv Eker

Loved and Lost

2005-06-21T08:41:00.000+03:00

Heart break - when it feels like your heart has been ripped from your rip cage, thrown on the floor, where it shattered into a million pieces, and the pieces thrown randomly back into the place where the heart, when it was whole, used to occupy.

When all you want is to crawl into a dark corner and never ever see light again. When the dark corner ends up being your bed, where you curl up into the foetal position and hug yourself tight, never intending to let go. Your mind won't stop churning, no matter how many times you tell it to SHUT UP, dredging, finding the memories - the first date, the first kiss, the first anniversary, the first gift, when he said he loved you.

Suddenly, as if pricked with a pin, you jump out of bed and rammage like one possessed for the photos - that made a feable attempt to capture the happiness - the cards, the notes, with words that promised eternal love, the preserved petals, from that first bouquet of roses, that were sent 'just because'.. the words that declared eternal and undying love..and the teacherous heart, begins to whisper.. perhaps you can go back to what you had before, to the happiness clearly visible through the photos, perhaps it's not all lost.. but as suddenly as the energy flowed through you body, it's spent.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, the sobs begin and slowly you crawl back to bed, to the now familiar foetal position, where the sobs now take over your body..oh what you would give for this pain to end. And finally after what seems like hour, days of sobbing, you're finally numb but you know it's only a short reprive the pain will be back...

How do you cure a broken heart? And please, not the age old adage of 'time heals all wounds..

The Extinction of Men pt. 1

2005-06-21T08:07:00.000+03:00

These days I find myself increasingly asking the question: "Are men extinct?" . My interest in discussing this was brought about when Halley's comment led me to a very interesting post on the fish.

In this post, the author indicates that she seems to be enjoying (and preferring) dating women much more dating men. I find this very interesting. She's not talking about being a man-hating dyke. She's simply talking about hanging out, having fun and (dare she say it) flirting with women. She further adds that dating women perfectly satisfies her childhood idealist fantasy of what a date is supposed to be.

She says that the women she get's to meet and date (yes.. they actually do call back after they promise to) are smart, strong, gorgeous women. They have ambition, common sense and unbelievable flair. After that statement, the bomb is dropped. I could almost hear the collective gasp of all male netizens as they held their already bated breath and read that it is impossible to find men who have even a fraction of the qualities these women possess. Do they even exists?

I find this very scary. Does this mean that we're being outcompeted and outdone by women on all fronts? Has it become so extreme that another woman can even snatch away my woman?

I realize that half of the contributors to this blog are very successful, highly respected, well accomplished, independent women. This makes me even more curious and I have to pose the question:

My dear women... are you ladies so independent because they're no men who meet the high standards that the modern women has set?

If this is indeed the case then the man is soon to be a dinosaur. In a previous post I indicated as much. In this brave new world where a man can be replaced by a $15 toy and a few girlfriends (not necessarily to be employed at the same time..lol), we are facing some serious competition.

Then there's the added challenge that Men are disadvantaged. We are at a serious disadvantage when we have to go toe to toe with a woman for the same job because of 2 reasons compounded by an evil case of positive feedback:

Affirmative action. Women have been marginalized in recent times so now we(men) are under pressure to hire women.
P&$@y power. The prospective employer is faced with a tough choice. Does he employ this sexy creature who speaks with a voice that can charm the sun out of heaven. This woman who looks likely she was just pulled out of a playboy centerfold or a Maybelline advertisement. This woman who's very appearance is a promise of (at the very least) endless pleasurable fantasizing as you call her to schedule yet another meeting and discuss the vicissitudes and vagaries associated with human resource management and ensuring employee morale.
Or perhaps he should hire this barrel chested, pot belly having, hairy armed, sweaty wannabe corporate executive who is only interested in doing his job?
(Now before I get shot, let me qualify one thing: Women in the corporate space are not sluts... they simply have a lot of (what's the word) sexual leverage. And we all know that sex sells.

All this is exercebated by positive feedback. As the number of women being employed by male corporate executives explodes, women are suddenly the only employees who can be promoted (because we're in a predominantly oestrogen filled workplace). These women who are now the CEOs, CTOs, CFOs, C-All-Os are not likely to hire the men who they fought so hard to progress ahead of in the first place. So instantly we find ourselves in an Amazonian jungle, where "men" is a word that evokes distant memories of an ancient civilization predating the Aztechs.

Oh.. I can hear the questions:

"How will the human race procreate?.. we'll all be doomed in your grim dark world view"

Well.. I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you but a female scientist is about to find a way to reproduce humans without men.

Men are extinct already!!!!

Challenge

2005-06-17T10:02:00.000+03:00

I have taken up a challenge NOT to complain, about anything, for a week.

At my Desk... In a Coma

2005-06-16T11:36:00.000+03:00

Today happens to be one of those days when my productivity is at an all time low... Those reading this and expecting updates on various projects, should not be surprised if they do not receive any mail today....

I blame last night... More than that I blame raging hormones.... I got home relatively early yesterday (midnight is typically early for me). My intention was to sit, read and enjoy an evening without the pressures of productivity and performance.. I've been working hard the past couple of days. Such diligence demands periodic distractions that allow one to shift their frame of mind into a domain distant and separate from their jobs...To smell the roses as it were...

An idle mind is indeed the devil's workshop.

No sooner had I settled into the comfortable 6 x 6 bed than my mind was invaded my a lecherous seductive femme fatale. She's haunted me for a time now... And on this night she would get her kicks tormenting me...

Perhaps I should explain... I'm just a geek... And I'm tied to my work: voluntary BDSM and my work is my dominatrix. I never get to feel the soft linen sheets of my bed for more than 4 hours in a day... I never get to feel the sweet velvety smoothness of that king sized duvet... The last time I had a busty belle on that selfsame duvet escapes my memory.... yes... It's been that long....

Last night was no different. The exception was that this particular evening held a promise of comfort and relaxation on my bed...Alone... (I haven't yet been able to cajole an unfortunate victim(s) into my bedroom...).

My thoughts, however, betrayed me and the moment she walked into my mind she took up all energy I had left... She dominated... She pranced.. She strutted... She seduced....My mind was hers... My body was lost to Hades....She wantonly wreaked havoc....

Her perfect 10 figure was all I could think of as she walked into my bedroom.. She wasn't presumptuous not to knock... She knew that I would have left my doors open all night praying for her to "barge in"...

Her bedroom eyes are the most dangerous... I avoid looking at her directly knowing that I'll be powerless if I do... I can't help it and once I glance, I'm rooted to the spot, my entire being cemented in space-time, magnetized by her beauty and temerity.

She walks around me, like a lioness preparing to pounce on its prey... She appraises me... I lend myself to her like dust to the wind...

Her scent is even more enthralling than the sirens. It wafts into my nostrils and fills my lungs with a vaporous nectar. It seems into my blood, churns my life force and boils it. Any calm I previously had is now replaced by a persistent accelerating thudding in my chest and my loins.. I'm sure that my heart wishes to burst from the confines of my sternum...

God, she's so beautiful!!!

The only words I can think, let alone say....

Throughout the night, she torments me.... I toss and turn in a vain attempt to send her packing. Who am I trying to kid? That's my last wish!!

How could I want her to leave? How could I deny myself of her phantom presence? If I can't physically be with her, can I not abandon myself in a fantasy world where she is eternally in my loving presence? If I am forced to drown myself in work to avoid the pain of her absence, can I not enjoy it for one brief moment in my mind?

The price of that over indulgent imagineering is that I had an extremely restless night and hardly slept. In frustration I dashed off to work at 5am. Now fatigue is setting in and I'm struggling to keep from nodding off and smashing my head into the keyboard on which I know type...

Nothing a bit of coffee and therapeutic blogging can't fix...

Wananchi

2005-06-16T08:46:00.000+03:00

I was in a mat this morning, listening to Kiss. They had Sir Edward Clay, the outgoing British High Commissioner, as a guest and wananchi are asked to call in with any messages or questions they have for Clay.

This guy calls in and says he doesn't want Clay to leave, he wants him to be the MP for Kapenguria! I was livid. What is it that makes Kenyans look outside for help instead of trying to solve our problems ourselfs? All you have to do is listen to News anytime something happens to the ordinary mwanchi whose boat sunk in the lake, whose roof caved in, whose house got submerged due to heavy rains and they all start the same 'tungetaka serikali itusaidie...' even though they should know from experience that the serikali has never helped any ordinary mwanchi!!

Clay is a zungs and he's not even a citizen which you at least need to be to qualify as MP!

Uuuuurrghh!!!

Love is a means of fraud that breeds disrespect...

2005-06-15T21:03:00.000+03:00

Marriage is the best of human statuses
and the worst, and it will continue to be.
And that is why, though its future in some form
or other is as assured as anything can be, this
future is as equivocal as its past.
The demands that men and women make on marriage
will never be fully met;they cannot be
- Jessie Benard

2005-06-15T18:54:00.000+03:00

Life is not about the amounts of breath you take, it's the moments that take your breath away.

Lo, want to guess?

Today's Quote: Abraham Lincoln

2005-06-15T12:05:00.000+03:00

"I will study and prepare, and someday my opportunity will come."

– Abraham Lincoln

Blogging Drunk

2005-06-14T22:07:00.000+03:00

A post a day keeps the readers in sway is what they say....

Thus, for purely superfluous reasons I've decided to blog tonight... I've reached that point of the night where you start to feel inebriated, not because of any form of ingested intoxicant, but simply because it's that time of the night...

Today I just want to wax on synergy..The kind of beautiful, magical energy that multiple minds working in concert can create. This kind of energy is among the purest forms of energy that a human being can feed on... It empowers one subtly, yet with great efficacy...You're emboldened yet calm... Excited yet controlled...

That is how I feel about the coming together of this NoMA group. I feel honored to be in the company of great minds that have been weathered, tempered and vindicated by the struggles of life. Minds that have been innervated by the victories of years past, minds that are hopeful and brave due to victories guaranteed in years to come...

Every day I muse upon the magical energy we've began to synthesize the more I'm in awe. I toss and turn in my sleep haunted by the voice in my head that tells me:

Jump, run, move, take action, go, work, don't sleep!!! Never sleep!!! Create, produce, imagine, invent, innovate, leap, magnify, share, give, be!!...

That voice is the collective psyche of the people who have helped me become who I am today...The consummation of an alignment of minds that allows us to meld and share both consciously and subconsciously... No more will I walk like a zombie, a somnumbulist staggering and faltering down the pathways of existence....

I am reborn, I am rebirth, I am change.... All because of the energy of those around me...

...I prostrate myself before you all... I thank you...

How to Keep the Bedroom Exciting

2005-06-11T15:24:00.000+03:00

I'm in turmoil. I'm puzzled about something? How the hell can a man keep a woman happy over the long term?

The Problem

When a relationship begins everything is extremely intense. The conversations are intense. Every moment spent in each other's presence is dense with electricity between the two.

The heat as the lovers gravitate towards each other is so powerful that the only possible response is to rip off each other's clothes to cool the flames of desire.

The sex is explosive... nuclear explosive... The man can do no wrong and his love is always dynamic, new, amazing, nasty, different.... When the man says he's coming into town, the girl almost collapses, weak at the knees, loins burning with the rivers of desire as she awaits the tryst.

One year down the line, the man calls the woman to tell her he's coming to town and her response is less than stimulating. Her heart doesn't flutter, her breath doesn't get shallow, her cheeks don't get flushed, she barely registers a reaction that extends below her neck...

In short, she is underwhelmed... After a night of what has now become standard sex, she has a conversation with her girlfriends. Here's what she says:

.. I mean.. it's like the sex used to be so exciting... I mean it's still good but you know... I can tell what he's going to do.... I mean he starts playing with my nipples for about 5 minutes, he then kisses my neck and begins caressing my bum as he works his tongue in my mouth for about 3 minutes...slowly he trails down my tummy and starts giving me head for 10 minutes... ... i mean.. it's so mundane these days....

The Question

I've interviewed a large number of women to try and find out. I never get a concrete answer to the question:

How can a man keep his bedroom magic fresh forever?

The women I've talked to unanimously agree that the sex eventually gets pretty standard and unexciting.

After a couple of months, the crotch conflagration that he instantaneously triggers has now died down into two hour drudgery. To make it worse the drudgery climaxes in a wet match spark that is easily surpassed by a dildo from Ann Summers(tm) and a healthy amount of lube.

So, what's the solution? How can I make sure that the woman I want to commit to constantly walks into Java House the next morning and tell her girlfriends:

Wow!!! That man is an animal in the bedroom.... He did things to me last night that should be illegal even in private...I've never ever had so many orgasms in one night!!!

Her girlfriends would then turn to her, flushed, all of them wishing that they could have her man...

Blogging

2005-06-10T17:42:00.000+03:00

Well!
As much as this thing is exciting and all, it is not half as intuitive as email. So before I come to speed with this baby, I will do some odd posts here and there. Hope you guys agree.
Cool thing is that you can edit your own posts!!! how cool is that? So guys will not be able to retain copies of your vibe that has bad grammer. That's totally cool.
Also a word of caution to IE users. This thing will pop up like 12 windows for every post you create/edit so you may want to get the tabbing plugin for IE, or better yet - use the fox!

Flavour

2005-06-10T17:11:00.000+03:00

I am tasting...anticipating....waiting

This and That

2005-06-10T15:50:00.000+03:00

Am I the only one who's feeling like this is a big milestone in our lives. What started out with emails has grown to this! Can't wait to see where this journey takes us.

Interesting Reading: Lessan

2005-02-02T08:46:00.001+03:00

Something I read and thought I should share….

Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened,

ambition inspired, and success achieved.

A Kenyan Dating Nightmare

1990-03-09T11:00:00.000+03:00

Chic: (calls jmburus) "Hello... Sasa Jamo.. its Sato bana.. we do some
nyama ?"

jmburus: Thinking he will get some that night quickly agrees... "Sawa
sweetie.. how about buffet park Shall I pick u at 2 ?"

Chic: Sawa.. laterz.

(jmburus amukas from Friday's hengies, showers, jeans n polo shirt, pockets
a pack of condoms, then drives to the chics crib..

So at 2-ish they drive into Buffet park and pitia the butchery to order
the nyaks.)

jmburus: (to chic) : So what do u want to have .. ?

Chic: just anything...

(aki these women are just thick at times... sasa hiyo ni jibu gani)

jmburus: (to butcher): Weka hizo mbavu , kilo moja na nusu , choma, ...
ikuje na kachum... *..**

(chic interrupts jmburus ! )

Chic: APANA eeiishh ! Si you know I dont eat goat meat

(jmburus thinks to himself... " Really !... then why didnt you say so in
the first place, nugu hii")

jmburus: (To chic) How about beef then ?

Chic: Its ok so long as it is not fat and not the legs. I dont like
mathunya

(jmburus looks away and rolls eyes up .. thinks to himself... "ati fat,
you are already carrying a 40 kilo MATAKO, surely ... 2 grams of fat are
negligible)

jmburus: (to an already impatient butcher) basi si unitafutie ngombe haina
mafuta.

(butcher chucks a ki-nice piece from the hangers hapo nyuma and holds it
up for mburus to see)

jmburus: weka hiyo nione...

(as the butcher is weighing it on the
scale...chic point at a small ,.. very very small piece of fat on the meat)

Chic: Hiyo iko na mafuta mingi sana, tuonyeshe ingine...

(butcher curses .. under his breath)

(other hungry buyers who are waiting hapo kando start fidgeting)

(jmburus feels like he should just have ordered fish fry from those fat
jang'o women they pitad on their way in)

(Chic points at a fresh carcass of meat ... somewhere near where the meat
is hanging from such that is impossible to extract a piece without the
entire carcass falling down on the floor)

Chic: kata pale ...

butcher: hapo haiwezekani mama .. kula hii ndio fiti

(butcher attempts to return the piece back on the scale)

Chic: Apana !.. Hauna nyama zingine kwa store...

jmburus: (to chic) lets do this... let him fry that one, I will eat the
mathunya pieces ama... ?

Chic: OK

jmburus:(to butcher) Fanya iwe fry na uweke nyanya, dhania na spinach.
Ongeza ugali mbili...

Chic: (to jmburus) .. Ugali ? me I dont want ugg.. Dont they have chipos.

Chic: (to butcher) leta na ugali moja na chips mbili

(jmburus thinks to himself... no wonder the butt is 40Kgs.. sasa u avoid
animal fat then u kula half a gunia of chipoz .. talk about nyani haoni
kundule)

Butcher: KAMAU !!! Oya nyama ino ! ni furae , na wikire nyanya, dhania na
spinashi. ndugekire waaru..

(butcher pins the meat with a tag and tosses it to kamau in the kichen
behind him)

Butcher : Sawa... shika resiti .. namba yako ni 53.. Itachukwa ithaa moja...

jmburus pays the butcher and chukuwas the receipt and tag.

So we enter the open space of the club and sit down.
Waiter comes , jmburus orders his cold Tusker, chic orders her malt..

We kunywa kidogo.. storoz panda... then there is this mama who pitaz a
tray of oil oozing samosas , sausages and mshikakis..........

Chic: we psst ppstt nipe samosa mbili na hiyo niniii ...

jmburus: (shocked).. haiya si u wait for the meat..

Chic: I will still kula the meat...

jmburus: ok

(and she proceeds to kula 2 samoz and 3 mshikakis)

One hour 20 minutes later .. the Waiter comes round with maji moto for
washing hands.. we wash our hands and the the meat checks in with the
chipos and the Ugali all hot steaming and looking nice...

"Bonne Appetit" ! .. Karibu Nyama " ... Jmburus invites the mama and
thinks to himself.. now she will really shiba...

LAKINI WAPI !
Yaani after all that shiet, she just hen pecks about the platter of meat
here and there BUT proceeds to maliza the 2 plates of chipoz having eaten
only 3 pieces of nyama.

As if that is NOT ENOUGH ... 3 minutes later:

Chic: tsk! tsk! chief...tsk! tsk! Waiter ! niletee serviettes pliz..na
toothpicks

jmburus: (cursing silently ) why arent you eating nyama....

Chic: I have shibad deadly plus I started feeling my ulcers ... Si u jua
the way they can be nasty..

(without another word jmburus proceeds to kula what he can and asks waiter to pack the rest of the meat in a juala)

Jmburus patias waiter the now wrapped remaining meat to peleka to his car
...
...
Then he fungulias the carburattor (sp ) "LETA TUSKER mbili na MALT Mbili"
as they wait for the Arsenal Match coming on the screens in about 20
mins..

Beers, Storoz, the game.... more beer flows... After kindu like 2 hours...
to the amazement of jmburus...

Chic: tsk! tsk! chief...tsk! tsk! niitie yule mama wa sambusa...

...(jmburus closes his eyes and thinks silently... we should just have
headed to Topaz..Fish n chips...

( So later on at around 12:30 am Jmburus takes the chick to the car and
starts being naughty kidogo. the chick responds well and before long they
are catching rubs like .....)

jmburus: baby .. baby .. si we go to somewhere more private?? ??

Chic: aaah.. aaah... you naughty boy!!! rrrrrrr. sure whats on your mind?

Jmburus: I will show you

( jmburu drives like a mad man in anticipation of what is at stake ' 40kg
of pure booty' occassionaly missing the gears and going way up her tiny
skirt. Before long they get to jmburus hao.Catch all the way to the fifth floor.)

jmburu: ( both already half naked, jmburu tries to chuck her pants)

Chic: weeee iz how............ what you trying to do?

Jmburu: (amazed Stunned Look) kwani what do you think ?

Chic:: bilaz I dont want!!

Jmburu: come on babe!

Chic: ( pulling a very serious look) NO! Dont do that !

Jmburu: hala ! whats the matter! ( thinking! si thamutha umekula ? na
viazi vya mafuta? )

Chic: I cant

Jmburu: ( tusker malt tano na nyama ya ngombe fry? shuma Razima irare
ndani!)

Chic: I'm rolling !!!

Jmburu: Sh*T!!!

PS: Conclusion : TABIA MBAYA âEUR¦ That was the last time I took her out.

Filed under: Encounter of the week

Not On My Ass

My Night With Ms K

Easter Eggs

Being a Guy is Hard

Life Goes On...

From CFA to Affair

Love is a Storm

And Paul Comes Aboard

Welcome Janet

How to please a man in bed

DIY Abortions

Men who cheat sucessfully and repeatedly

Yin, Yang

The CFA

Dating "Famous" Women

A Kenyan Dating Nightmare

Wambzz on Heartbreak

How To Make A Woman Do Anything In Bed

Your wife is a porn star

Scratch my back and....

Woman, Touch Your Toes NOW

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained.

The Perfect Relationship

Women Don't Need Advice

When It Hit Me

Two types of people

Childish Sex Games

Speaking of years

What matters

Bleach On My Ass

King Kong and the Thin Blond Crap

Strippers Make All the Money

Men are Simple... Let's Not Complicate Issues

My Dream Woman

Why Men Dog

Falling Out of Love

McDonalds...McVampire...What?

Mashup: [the real] Yoda Strikes Back

Dating Patterns.... what?

Sex in the Graveyard

Two Words!

Movie Review : The Notebook

That's just wrong!

Ah! Humour

Maasai Market

On my Own 2

Stay Away.. The Devil's Spawn Lives Here

Women and Men are equal but not the same

Interesting blog

The Unromantic Man

There's a Time for Honesty and A Time for Honesty

Wild Roman Horses and Heartbreak

Home and Away

Let's Talk

Furniture Love and Positioning

Lesaan Missing In Action

Violent Blog!

Challenging August

Happy Birthday Wambzz

The Coolest Tennis Court Ever

More Reading.. More Pleasure

Hustle Non-Stop

2 feet, 6 feet and the Road Less Travelled

President Bush and 50 Cent release a Chart Topping Single

Best Movie Quote

24

Illuminated Showerheads

Weddings

Rape

Kenyan Muscleman and Leopard Slayer

Vile creatures

Singularity, Completeness and Perfection

Dealing with boredom

Midnight Express

Writer's Block

Bankelele Absolutely Rocks

Quote

Devil's Brew

Pain Does Not Exist.. Neither Does Suffering

Rest Less...about rats and grains