Tuesday, March 25, 2008

no shit, Einstein.

Photobucket I got a very interesting email today. I refused the advances of somebody so i was insulted;

"Wewe ni nyee (You're bollocks). That's why you don't have a boyfriend. Think."

I think for some reason this is supposed to give me sleepless nights. All i know is, my gut instinct was right from the off set.

Monday, March 17, 2008


I may be showing my age here but i think i had the best childhood. Was chatting with my pals a while back - post new year's eve alcoholic over indulgence - about the games we played as kids and boy were we creative or what. Not a day went by that you could say you were bored, everyday was an adventure and the world was your oyster.

Remember shake - the best match was when playing a rival gang ( i use this term loosely) the perceived gang was somebody from a different court/estate. Or when we played boys against girls. We'd spend all day playing even taking a lunch break was an issue because unless everyone agreed to it nobody was having lunch and you can forget about a bathroom break that animal didn't exist.

Then there was rounders ( this game was loosely based around baseball) - same rules as above but this was a game of speed, the faster you could run the better then everyone wanted you in there team. And if you could hit hard and far, even better.

Around the the time of the international Safari Rally ( cross country racing with cars) the boys would start making their toy cars using coat hangers, paros flip flops, empty detergent boxes, inner tyre tubes to hold all the bits together, bottle tops for wheels, etc. It was all about creativity. Some were quite good, some were just rubbish and wouldn't make it past the first leg.
But it was the taking part that mattered - at least for the looser. There was also somebody keeping score. This would go on for days on end, or so it seemed to me, being a girl as this was generally a boys game.

There was this other game can't remember the name, but somebody would stand against the wall or pole with their back to everybody and say, "I went to london and i saw...?" What one was supposed to have seen in london, i haven't got a clue.

The plan was to run towards the person as they were reciting this, then stop and pause before they finished. Then said person would come around carefully checking them out. If you so much as moved or laughed, you had to go to the front. And so and so forth until the last person. Who would have to "cut" the link then give chase and try and tag someone. If tagged, you were it.

These are just but a few of the games we played.

Then we moved to the teenage years. Ah the shit we got into with our parents due to our misadventures. You could easily have sold your soul to the devil just to be able to go clubbing.

I know you remember the thrashing/telling off you got the next day because:

You wrote off the new car

Of that household item you sold so you could have money to go out

You rolled in early hours of the morning off your face

The money you nicked off your dad's wallet and you've been found out.

The hustling involved cos you wanted, no, needed money to heng

You didn't come home for three days cos you've been off your face

You thought you were more clever than your parents and lied about where you were going. I think there were a bit too many farewell parties.

And just because they could. I think that's self explanatory

My pal told me the bro once travelled all the way to shags and sold the
price cow. What madness.

Some people were quite enterprising; they started some kind of business - i know someone who'd borrow movies from the video library, then sell them on to his aunt who had a video library as well.lol This only happened when he wanted to go clubbing.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

its a rant

When will we ever get away from stereotyping. I know i'm guilty of it in more ways than i care to think about. If you're of a sunny, sweet, cute, butter wouldn't melt in your mouth kind of disposition i'd advice you not to read any further. Consider yourself warned.

Somebody sees a bit of Crash the movie. A few black men arguing, talking "black" so they dismiss it as a "black" movie and they aren't going to watch it. Come back later and they see a Hispanic older man holding a gun to younger Hispanic man demanding his money back. Hence not a movie worthy of their intellectual mind.

A few choice words came to mind. Bollocks, bloody bollocks you bloody twat, ignorant injittit, fucktard. Get out of my face before i smash your fucking teeth in cunt. Seriously who the fuck does this cunt think she is. There; i now feel all nice and warm inside. Now where is that cup of hot chocolate i made earlier. Prick!!!!!

I know there are "black" movies out there that celebrate that kind of thug life so she was kind of justified in what she said, but i'm still not happy. This movie isn't about that at all rather it just points out what society has become and how we judge people due to race, creed, gender, sexual orientation, wealth or lack thereof, education, etc.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Makes you wonder

Apparently its a good thing to try and improve yourself. So where else would i go online other than on Wikipedia. I don't really know how this will improve my life but it sure helped me forget and relieve the despondency i was feeling.

I found the this and couldn't help but laugh, especially about Aeschylus a Greek playwright who was hit by a tortoise that fell from the sky. Ya i know, you're probably wondering how that happened. Apparently an eagle mistook his bald head for a stone. Oh, the tortoise lived to tell the tale. I wonder how his eulogy read. Death by eagle via tortoise?

I almost gave myself a headache trying to figure this out. I maybe wrong, but i think it's what i call scarcasm. Somehow someone has managed to make a living out of it and called it philosophy. I think maybe im wasting my time in my chosen job. Seriously. think about it why bother when you could easily pick anything from the blue write something convoluted and voila your rolling in it.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

no thank you - not for me

I had what some would call a very interesting weekend away, but i would prefer to call it odd.

Thing is i used to live in a small town when i first came to UK and this just served to remind me why i prefer the anonymity of a big town. For one you can get lost in the crowd and nobody gives a toss about you other than if you hold up the queue at the local supermarket at rush hour. That's when you get glares that could fall the titanic in nanoseconds.

In a small town, especially if you're just visiting, you get strange looks from the women as they size you up and then criticise (overheard) then they proceed to analyse if you're friend or foe. The men give you the once over as they contemplate their chances with the new bait in town. All this is done before any kind of "formal" introductions are made. I avoided this like the plague and if i couldn't, i would say my hellos then proceed to be fascinated by the wallpaper. Hence coming across as cold and uninviting. Mission accomplished(yippee).

That said you do have the odd comedian who manages to have you on the floor, cracking a rib with laughter.

He sold his shamba for bride price to my father, i birthed his daughter, we left for Kenya where he loved me for eternity like i'd never been loved before. Shame the man couldn't stay upright long enough to fulfill his promises. He had over-indulged in the jeremiah waters (thoroughly intoxicated).