6 keys from the edge…

IT is back again, but I never left. Okay. IT done gone and hit da street, but that don’t mean that IT take S**T from no one. IT ain’t gone go mainstream, IT is still unda-groun. IT just come out to hit y’all wid brand new leak single from Obama and McCain camp.
Everybody, wants a piece of da IT. Even Michael Jackson has nugu for me and has said Beat IT…not too long ago, him prophetic brothers done ax ya, ” Can you feel IT”. Shit, no more delay, Selekta, Hit IT.
*ouch!* hehe, selekta not really hitting IT. IT is making joke. IT don’t use selekta. IT use NIVEA

So ‘ear dis, watch as IT take you by surprise and open your eyes, dis be da part where it get da song and him slice and dice…

NUMB/ENCORE : IT REMIX ft. Barry Obama & The Mac Kane

Barry: Thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re far too kind

Now can I get an encore, do you want more
Cookin raw with the Kenyan boy
So for one last time I need y’all to roar

Now what the hell are you waitin for
After me, there shall be no more
So for one last time, niggaz make some noise

The Mac (resigned): Get em Barry

Who you know fresher than Ob’? Riddle me that
The rest of y’all know where I’m politically at
Can’t none of y’all mirror me back
Yeah hearin me rap is like hearin Bill (Clinton). Rap in his prime
I’m, young H.O (Hussein Obama)., Stato’s Grateful Head
Back to take over the globe, now break bread
I’m in, Boeing jets, Global Express
Out the country but the blackberry still connect
On the low but the yacht got a triple deck
But when you Barrack, what do you expect? Yep, yep
Grand openin, grand closin
God your man Barry’ cracked the can open again
Who you gon’ find doper than him with no pen
just draw off inspiration
Soon you gon’ see you can’t replace him
with cheap imitations for DESE GENERATIONS

Now can I get an encore, do you want more
Cookin raw with the Kenyan boy
So for one last time I need y’all to roar

Now what the hell are you waitin for
After me, there shall be no more
So for one last time, niggas make some noise

What the hell are you waiting for

[sighs] Look what you made me do, look what I made for you
Knew if I paid my dues, how will they pay you (IT: uh-huh!)
When you first come in the game, they try to play you (IT: True Dat)
Then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you
From Kisumu to Constitutional Square
To the only thing that matters in just a matter of years (yea)
As fate would have it, Barry’s status appears
to be at an all-time high, perfect time to say goodbye
When I come back like M7, wearin the presidential hat
It ain’t to play games witchu
It’s to aim at you, probably maim you (IT: he kiddin’ he harmless like puss cat)
If I owe you I’m blowin you to smithereens (IT: 4 realz, he be kidding around)
Republican take one for your team
And I need you to remember one thing (IT: one thing)
I came, I saw, I conquered
From speech sales, to sold out clothing
So Republican if you want this encore
I need you to scream, ’til your lungs get sore

The Mac:
I’m tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
And every second I waste is more than I can take

I’ve become so numb I can’t feel you there
I’ve become so tired so much more aware
I’m becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

I’ve become so numb
Can I get an encore, (IT: er, no, you have your chance)
do you want more (IT: NO!…)
I’ve become so numb
So for one last time I need y’all to roar (IT: Go! As in away!)
One last time I need y’all to roar (IT: GOOOOOO!)

Okay, so here’s the thing. I’ve had it with being maligned for my girls-in-white-pants fetish. Fortunately, with all you guys rubbishing the whole thing and poking fun at me, I’m almost cured. What can I say, you lot are a wonderful support system. If I ever pick up a nasty drug problem, I know who to turn to for help. Yes, I said “almost” I know when we met up I told you I was fine, but I seem to have suffered a relapse. I’m working on it, when things get really bad, I try to form a mental image of Straka in white pants.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it works too well and my sperms hang themselves with their tails and in so doing,banish the thought of sex from my mind for a while.

But as is always the case after a bout of tough love from a jury of your peers, I found myself doing some soul searching. Trying to see whether the whole white pants thing is really that odd and whether Ernest is justified in laughing at me and making me feel bad. I mean. I consider Ernest a very knowledgeable person. a gentleman and a scholar, so surely he, of all people, would know which fetish warrants a laugh and which one doesn’t.

So I did some research. No, I didn’t visit porn sites, Google was pretty effective in drawing up some info. There was a site that purpotedly offered insight on this whole white pant thing, but the text accompanying the link was something to the following effect, “Japanese teens tied up for you”. I skipped it. The following fetishes apparently exist;

Spectrophilia:
This is an attraction to ghosts. I don’t know about you, but I think, from a ghost’s point of view, this is pretty disturbing. See, ghosts are generally deemed to be scary, supposed to frighten the **** out of us, so I think it would be pretty messed up if a ghost turned up and you got turned on instead.  Halloween must be such a blast for people suffering from this,huh? Are horror flicks their porn?

Aquaphilia:
The name says it all. The sight of flowing water gets you all excited and has your water flowing as well. I know, I probably shouldn’t have said that, but it was a nasty pun just waiting to happen.
All things considered, this helps justify my apparent loathing towards drinking water. I’d hate to think I’m turning someone on… You reckon people that fall in this bracket would die to see the source of the nile?

Somnophilia:

Turns out it is not such a bad thing to have insomnia. Come to think of it, I may have to rethink this whole sleep to the point of exhaustion habit I seem to have picked up. This fetish basically involves getting turned on at the sight of sleeping or unconscious people.
It’s a great time to be an insomniac or Ugandan origin, yeah?
That said, you reckon watching movies like sleeping beauty gets such people all excited and stuff?
Stuff you should not say around such types: “I’m sleepy”

Trichophilia:
This is where you get really hot and bothered at the sight of Hair. Yeah, that’s right, hair.
Don’t know if you can see it properly, but the dude in the cartoon thingy to the right is telling the damsel in distress, “Hang on, I forgot the condoms in the car, brb”
People with this fetish are likely to be found lurking in the salon or at the barbers. Hmm, who is that blogger with loads of hair? bet said blogger has a stalker.
Amendment: I just realised I may have been wrong about the barber shop bit. Being there watching someone get a haircut must be as entertaining as watching someone get kicked in the nuts…speaking of which…

Phalloorchoalgolagnia: 

Yep. People do get aroused from pain experienced there. Kinda conflicting if you ask me. See, the thing about arousal is that a person gets hard. If such a person is kicked in his GOLOGO (oh red pepper, why must you influence me so) he experiences immense pain…and pleasure…all at once.
It’s like a bloody 2 in 1 deal. buy one, get one free doesn’t have anything on these guys.
If you think about it, getting hit hard may produce a quick er…

Plushophilia:

First off, I can’t tell you enough how bad I feel about bringing this teddy bear out of retirement, but a point has to be made and what better way to introduce the fetish where someone gets turned on by stuffed animals or people in animal costumes…
So yeah, there are people that get a kick out of these things.
Makes you wonder though, when you buy a girl a teddy bear, are you loading the gun that’s going to shoot you in the back?

Sitophilia:
Ever experienced this; someone keeps insisting that he or she is hungry and then when you get to a restaurant, all they do is stare at the food? Me neither, but there really are people who get a kick out of looking at food. I probably should have read up more on this one seeing as I really can’t fathom how anyone can be turned on by Matooke or that millet stuff. “Honey, I brought you some Ugali…Oh yeah, yeah, yeaaaaaahhhhhhh”

There’s loads more where these came from, but I am none too crazy about putting up some of the accompanying illustrations for some of them (eg; Coprophilia – attraction to shit (bracket within a bracket, how edgy!…shit as in poop!), Emetophilia- attraction to puke, Eproctophilia- attraction to farts, Necrozoophilia- attraction to dead animals…and so on and so forth) but yeah, the moral of this story, if ever there was one, is that my white pants thing is not such a bad thing after all. it may not have a fancy name or whatever, but at least you can eat and drink with me nearby and not wonder whether I’m getting turned on by your lunch.

Here’s a to a new week.

I am not a snob. Seriously. I just like to think that certain things are beneath me. The problem is, I have the number one sign that someone maybe a snob. I am too bloody quick to defend myself and attempt to link myself to a certain class/group of individuals.

You know that thing where someone brands you a snob and you say, “I am not a snob! I even hang out with. . .”
Yeah, that confirms that you are one. That said, here are a few snobbish traits I have managed to pick up and some pretty lame attempts to justify them. Feel free to add yours.

“EATING JOINTS”

I eat “Rolex”. Shit, the combination of Chapati and Egg and “accompaniments” (****! That word actually exists?!) is to die for. It’s such a shame they couldn’t come up with a decent name for it. So yeah, I like to eat the damn thing. An urban legend suggests that rolex postpones hangovers. They will come, but they will come late! Thing is, I can’t bring myself to buy one from anywhere but Wandegeya.

Defense: Rolex originated from Wandegeya, according to our forefathers. You can’t expect imitators to reproduce the product efficiently.  Any Rolex from anywhere else is a knock off.

SELECTIVE EATING 2.0
Burgers and Pizzas should not be bought from a place that boasts a clientele of three. That is to say, if it is not Dominos, Nandos, Steers or even Antonios, they should be handled with caution and the sort of delicacy usually reserved for transporting landmines. Places that are overly eager to display their capacity to preapare “special meals should not be trusted. That’s to say, any place that is named thus; BURGER DEALERS, PIZZA SUPREME MAKERS or even CYBER PIZZA AND BURGERS DOT COM should be avoided at all costs.

Defense 2.0: Which sorta doubles as a confession. Some new outdoor food vending thing opened up in an area close to where I live and I thought I’d give it a shot. Never mind that it was next to a brothel, or that the guy selling stuuf had the marketing skill of brick. I figured I’d try out their burgers. If they were any good, I’d be visiting this place on my way home and I’d be able to do away with that silly “I Feel Like Chicken Tonight” place in Kabalagala. BIG MISTAKE. The burger I bought did not have CHEESE, as I’d been led to believe by the brick behind the counter, but had a friggin fried egg in there. WTF?? What sort of self respecting burger has eggs on the slab of meat?

BODA BODA RIDERS

I’ve gone on and on about this, one of the most convenient means of transport today, what I may have forgotten is this. Whenever I can, I have earphones nestled in my (where else) ears. From time to time, the other end may be attached to anything ranging from a media player to my wallet. Its not because I suffer an affliction that requires constant in-ear stimulation, but rather so I don’t have to be engaged in discourse with the guy steering us through traffic.

Defense: Boda guys seldom speak in a language you understand. When they do, I try to listen, but I can make out very little from what the wind lets me pick up. A typical Boda conversation will run thus;

He: Kati ***** naye ***** imagine ***** (laughter) ***** don’t you see ***** fish ***** dame
The  ” * ” standing in for words the wind has maliciously carried away and I have, consequently, failed to pick up. If I forgot to carry my earphones I simply smile when I think I am supposed to, jeer occasionally and shake my head in sorrow.

OCCUPANTS OF WAITING AREAS

These range from those at the clinic to the waiting area at a company you’re looking to join and are thus awaiting someone to come over and beckon you to some conference area for your interview. Standard behavior is to wait and keep quiet. Do not feel the need to engage in conversation with other occupants of the area. In as much as it may make the wait seem shorter, more often than not it will not yield positive results. If there’s a newspaper nearby I tend to read that. If I’ve got credit, I send messages or surf the net. Engaging in a conversation is a last resort and one you should turn to if you absolutely must stay awake.

Defense: Without planning it, if you get the job and the other occupant of the waiting area doesn’t, you will come off looking like a dick. An arrogant, self righteous prick and he or she will not have any problem with “accidentally” pouring stuff on you the next time you run into each other.
Defense 2.0: If you happen to be in a clinic, that interaction does not do any one of you any good when either one of you hears the other being asked to present the “stool sample” the doctor asked for. You will never recover from this, so you’re better off reading the text you received telling you to text the word, “ACNE” to ****

WAITERS AND WAITRESSES…and BARTENDERS

Once in a while, one or two prove that they are different and as such I should have no qualms about interacting with them. Please note, I said one or two. Usually the third or fourth  will make you regret the whole experience.

Defense: When you display a show of camaraderie with waiters and waitresses, more often than not they will figure that they are above being tipped and will likely keep your “change”. It’s happened to me a couple of times. And when I asked for it, it’s like I had cracked the world’s funniest joke (yes, Baz, even funnier than that Obama +Black House thing of yours). The times I have displayed an “I left my friends on FACEBOOK” attitude, I have been successful in getting my “balance” back with considerably less issues… granted, there is the possibility that my food may have been forced to accommodate someone’s spittle, but….

STRANGERS IN TAXIS

I try to avoid engaging in conversations with these people (that actually does sound snobbish) because of two experiences…

Experience 01: This one time I was trying to sell of my phone, I bumped into a guy that expressed interest in it…and at a price higher than I expected. Naturally, I felt obliged to “conversate” with him till I got to my destination and exchanged numbers with him. I was young, I didn’t know any better. I was also quite desperate. It didn’t seem like such a bad thing…until the texts started to come in.

“Sweetheart. I think we should meet and talk. It was nice meeting you”
“Darling, I am serious about the phone, I just want to know you better”
“Dear, I just want to be your friend, where can we meet?”

Experience 02: Everyone has gone through the communal newspaper experience, so I won’t even go there.

- END -

I was having a chat with a pal recently over possible holiday destinations now that Christmas is upon us. IT really is, the slut outside Capital Pub was wearing a tank top with the words XMAS SPECIAL screaming at me so loud, I was happy to see the Boda guy take some initiative and turn the volume knob down. Don’t these ladies watch telenovellas? Do they not have EATV? Why aren’t they fashionable? Anyway, I digress.

So during our conversation she suggests Mombasa. That’s as cool a plan as any, except for one small detail. The coast gets flooded over the holiday by tourists and locals alike, it’s close to impossible to find accommodation. It gets so bad even lodges have no space on the floor (don’t ask!), and what little space is available is rented out by the hour. You walk in and they hand you the key and a polite reminder that your wake up call will be in 59 minutes. (Seriously, don’t ask!)

Plan B would be an island off the coast. A little place we like to call Malindi…or Malaba (*EDIT : It’s Malindi. Malaba is a border joint and the only people who holiday there are truck drivers and prostitutes). I am not sure which, and I can’t confirm until said friend responds to my beep. Pussycat Dolls just had to go and **** up that word, didn’t they? Somewhere along the line, the conversation shifts to Mermaids and Mermen and the mer-experience. I know what you’re thinking, “of all the topics. How does one even hold attention for that long?”  You’re still reading this, right?

So the following are things we need to think about before we go in the pursuit of mer-people…or put another way, before we consider the prospect of hitting some mer-tail. Not you Cheri, we all know you are as pure as that chic on your blog. Now, for the rest of you that have crazy, fishy fantasies…

MER-People are FISH from the waist downwards.
Translation, you will not really get some. Okay, if you’re like Detamble and you’re content with just looking at tits, fine. You’re sorted, but if you are looking for something a little more tangible. Something to work with, sorry, you’re swimming up the wrong current. Plus, there’s no consolation prize here. You can’t even grope the stupid things. Your hands will just slide off their butts.

MER-People really ARE fish from the waist downwards
What does this mean? Well, from experience, fish only smells good when its been fried. I don’t even like it when its boiled and bony. So what are you dealing with here? I’ll tell you. A foul smelling being. Forget the taxi conductor that pissed you off. Forget that kid in class that thought deodorant was something that happened to other people. What you have on your hands is fish! Your best bet is taking the damn thing home for a drink and then, when it is heavily intoxicated (and it will be, because face it, he or she probably drinks like a fish) you lope off the bit you don’t need with an axe and then fry the rest.

MER-People SERIOUSLY are fish from the waist downwards
Hollywood has gone and presented a glamorous perception of mermaids. Like they are pretty beings with orange hair, breasts the size of which would make a cow shy and lovely wonderful fins. Screw that! I’m willing to make an allowance as far as the breasts go, but given that they dwell in the water, they do not watch TV so they don’t know shit about Fair and Lovely or Heads and Shoulders. Hell, they don’t know about Samona so there’s no way they will look all done up. They will also probably be local! And try as I might I can’t picture a fine fin. Have you seen the tail on a fish? Does it make you want to slip your hand into your pants?

Haven’t you heard? MER-People are fish from the waist DOWNWARDS
You are not going to hit the disco. It’s one thing to have two left feet, but what the hell happens in the absence of feet?  If you are the materialistic kind, you will not be seen in a MER-Person’s car.  On the plus side, you won’t have to spend on shoes.

And that, my friends, is why I am not going coastal soon…