Quip This!

Sometimes I sit facing the screen wondering what I’m going to write, and there’s a certain length that I’m expected to write or else I’ll just be viewed as one of those bloggers who flood the internet with every thought they’ve had since they farted themselves awake… and that, my friends, is a debilitating fear I only wish on a couple of women. Some things are too long for Twitter or too much to go into without being terrified of the people who actually know me in real life making an appearance in the comments section (FOR ONCE!) and exposing my past discrepancies. Of course I’ll delete them, but you know, the internet never forgets.

However, this is just a post for all those thoughts I thought were epic enough to be written down and posted. Some of them can actually fit online, but after my #BitchesBeLike fame on Twitter I said fuck that site and any truthful opinions. If I ever have anything that I think is worth sharing I’ll just go back to Facebook and take out my anger on public forums and hope that maybe a screenshot of my awesomeness will make it back to Twitter… a vicious cycle of venom and validation. *sigh*

1.BOOM BABY BOOM

Babies, babies, babies everywhere. Babies in her avi, babies on Facebook, babies on IG (yes I joined sorry) as in what is going on? Please explain to me ladies because I don’t get it. Why do you want babies all of you? Everyone is pregnant. Gachagua told me that all girls who have babies make poor decisions then we laughed and hi fived one another. But seriously I have three scary sisters. And they’ve all followed a formula of getting boyfriends, living together, being introduced to the family and then you know, marriage comes afterwards and then a kid. I can’t dare go off this formula or else I’ll be excommunicated. You’d think I’d get used to this since it happens almost annually but honestly this would be the last thing I would ever do. And I’m barely making it past step one, so to skip ahead would just be some form of cheat codes and we do not operate like that.
This doesn’t even have to do with my three sisters (HA reference to Filipino soap and further evidence proving my lack of a life). That shouldn’t actually have been the first point explaining why I don’t have kids. I’m just unsure whether the man who will get me pregnant is not going to eventually resent the fact that he’s missing out on Blankets to take his kid to the dentist. Nowadays with the intense upsurge of parties and events everyone wants to be a socialite and appear on Kissing Bandit and be covered by Ghafla or appear on some KOT blog. These are our priorities right now as the youth. Where do nappies and dentist appointments fit in? Yes for now when the kid is still mewing and helpless it’ll be gorgeous and “oh my God let me post about (Kiswahili word that sounds hip as a first name, something like Jabali or Mwokozi or Wakili or some shit)’s first poop” and that’s cool… but wait till you start seeing your friends still out and about and more and more of them are becoming the socialites that you all so readily hated on together, you’ll stop being so quick to say how you’ll “never leave your child with a house help and how dare I suggest that you would be such a callous mother to abandon her baby like that” to quietly mentioning that the kid is with the aunt and quickly change the topic to when the next Hennessy party or whatever alcohol will be mainstream and mandatory to Instagram.

Now this is not an attacking post not entirely anyway) but I honestly don’t think I have the emotional capacity to be responsible for someone else’s life FOREVER. But why the rush to grow up? Where are you going? 2012 was a hoax guys… besides with all this horse meat and GMO foods the threat of a zombie apocalypse isn’t far from reality, but instead of being an able-bodied police officer with a bullet wound in your shoulder, you’re a mother with a crying baby. I’m just saying that little girl in Walking Dead was a serious liability. Also the mother almost lost her mind in grief and ultimately opted to burn to death because there was  nothing left in her life. You don’t have the emotional capacity to handle anything like that, do you? Well, maybe you do. I on the other hand still wonder whether I’ll ever get to 1000 followers, and that already occupies a sickening amount of time, and I still hold grudges from 2009, even if I can’t remember for shit why we disagreed in the first place. I’m really running out of batteries for this one. Please stop having children. I mean if you’re already pregnant or a mother below the age of 23 well, fine, congratulations. But for the rest of you who have been blinded by the oxytocin that has flooded your system & fooled you that drunk cheating emotionally unavailable boyfriend of yours will be a good father, you better think the fuck again!

2. TWITTER

Shit. Yeah. I really didn’t want t talk about this so I’ll keep it as short as possible. The root of all Kenyan evil. I mean I already wrote a post talking about the dangers of Twitter but unfortunately the thing with Twitter is that you can’t really write a post calling everyone on it stupid, apparently people don’t take that very nicely. Oh well.

This site has really ruined a lot of things for everyone. First of all the whole crowd mentality is scary. I admit to being caught up in a mass decision because it was popularized by one of the bigwigs (WORST WORD EVER BTW!!!! WORST!!!!) especially the time when it was cool not to have a Facebook account. I honestly had deactivated ages before (I am hipster, I roared way before it was cool) but the fact that I could fit in was amazing. .

Twitter is that serious. Do not be fooled by anyone saying that Twitter isn’t that serious. IT IS. Thats why people are making careers off a couple of airbrushed, instagram filtered beyond recognition, half naked pictures and making a girl with a dead goats tail on her head and mitumba high heels think that “Bey was mos def talmbout me in Been On” with no degree and thinks balling out is taking a cab both from and back to the house (well, yeah that’s my broke ass definition). Actually Twitter is just making women dafter by the day. We can’t even get mad when men start attacking us with evil trends like #TweetLikeAKenyanChic. Whenever I see such things I just log out, there’s no point. They’ll be some good ones, then those will be stolen, then someone will take a really cheap shot and call someone fat or ugly or a whore, and then the more popular of the two will have that one idiot who comes to their defence without being asked and make that fool feel unnecessarily special, battles ensue, sides are taken, bad memes are made and at the end of the day a blog is written. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. And Ghafla doesn’t make it any better. I hate that website. But I want to be on it! Or at least the blog man come on thats like the TMZ of Kenya. And the posts that they write! I am constantly wondering who’s blowing who to get such positive views. But I am bitter, no lies. At least I’ll admit it. Anyway I’ll just earn my readers in a legitimate way, I shall not sell out guys. *pushes Mingle ticket out of sight* yeah.

And why do people share so much nowadays 0_O is nothing sacred? Do I share as much? Are my friends really having THAT much sex? Gai. Do we really need to know those personal details of your life? Be bright! Start a blog

Also, grammar nazis. Go to hell, you are not a grammar nazi if you’re correcting spelling, you’re just a walking talking embodiment of the red squiggly line. Teach me the difference between who and whom, correct some prepositions, use the correct tense. You fucking wannabe.

3. KEEP YOUR FEELINGS

Well, maybe this is some spillover hate from the last post, but you guys have gone really soft. Well, the ones that we observe, from online to the…well, I don’t really know seeing as I’ve opted to become a shut in (new year’s resolution ) but the problems I hear women complaining about are nuts, like the guy who started crying outside Bacchus because he had been frozen or just yesterday in school when some guy got beaten up because he started yelling about not being given a cigarette… and not any cigarette, a Rooster. Now he looks like Rihanna. LOL.

But where is the hair on your chest? Can you stop taking photos of your food and go take some photos at the damn gym, stop bickering with women online and constantly belittling weaves like you’re some gay hairdressers. Now if you continue doing silly things like that, ordinary women will now start looking like the Super Butch in Game of Thrones.

Please maintain shallap Anyway I can say what I want, I have dreadlocks.

Aaaand tomorrow is like a religious holiday, so I would leave stoners with the ultimate fuck-the-police video here. Happy 4/20

Also, the consecutive posts are all because of #Indicud and Rowick Deep. I AM CULTURED GHAFLA

Niggas Be Like, Heeeeeey

One thing I’ve never denied being is a conspiracy theorist. I love conspiracies, you know, and if its backed up with adequate pictures and eerie music then it’ll probably go into the mental archives of totally nonsensical things to say in social situations. (It’s just like when you hear The Eurthymics “Sweet Dreams” (original or remixed) in a movie or series then you know some weird shit is going down. e.g Suckerpunch, Luther, The Following etc)

So when I came across this site I almost fainted. This was way too much for my poor brain to fathom. With posts that claim that Dolphins Are Ancestors of  Alien Mermaids and probably the most epic explanation of Santa Claus ever written there’s no way this thing will have anything even slightly credible to those less open-minded than I am. But there was one that caught my undivided attention and that’s why I’m blogging about it.

Have you watched TV of late? We already knew that the black guy in everything was always the least likely to survive, despite the fact that most of the time they are doing things that black people would normally never do. Who watched Skyline – that horrible mess of a sci-fi? First of all Donald Faison ruined his career in Scrubs, you know, the funniest show that nobody is watching… (is that thing still going on or are they still writing on their apology for everything past season 5?) Oh well, anyway in Skyline he’s the guy who volunteered to go outside. Even his white boys were like “naah son, it’s not safe.” I mean if white people have refused to go outside that pretty much sums up the whole plot of any horror movie. It also didn’t help that he had a white woman with him, which is already indicative of a man who is on a downward spiral to a quick and painful death.

I’m not pointing any fingers, but…

( I mean seriously, look at that resigned look on his face? Come on dude, we know you aren’t happy, you’re not even into her, thats why she’s always 4ft behind you, like some bitch don’t kill my vibe restraining order…. BACK UP BITCH YOU TRYNAA STEAL MY SHINE HAAAAN!)

Anyway I digress… So yeah, the black man has a very low position in the hierarchy of acting, coming after the main and supporting and supporting supporting cast, but above roadkill and zombie extras. And for several years we’ve been fine with this, but now we’re in trouble. We have been over taken by the gays. The comedy that black men used to provide has been totally replaced by the finger snap and tight clothes. Every show has got some gays in it. And which is okay because gays are people too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who get all indignant “ME, HOMOPHOBIC??? ..but… but.. I have gay friends!” Yeah I have gay friends, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to support gay marriage. That shit is wrong! We all agree that organised religion is a hoax, but all of them kind of frown upon the whole batty boy thing. Anyway.

For example, Glee.

No self-respecting man should watch this show. I have nothing about the musical aspect of the show, I loved Rent. Maybe later on in life, when Nairobi is drowning in socialite scum and the opera would have opened here in another successful plot of fooling quasi broke Kenyans into spending their money in the financial times of 120,000 B.R (before rent), I  will attend it with the full intent of hunting for a husband with some “class” (HA! Yeah right.) and that will be perfectly okay. The songs are whatever with me, I’ve listened to them and some are demonically forced to stay in your head coz they’re catchy, then again Glee did lead to the popularization of that stupid fun. group, so fuck it again.

This is why I am totally against it:

#nw Close Encounters of the Behind… oh wait sorry, wrong tab

Oh no Olivia stop hating, that’s ignorant, society is tolerant….

This is because they are white. Yes, the “ignorant” part of me stems from the black in my skin.You know, let white people do what they want, they’re the ones with the bombs. You know what happens when back people do such things. See the first photo of the snapping Temptations? Now lets put this in a little black and white.

Or… black and purple

Yeah, it’s not so okay, huh? when you see your fellow niggas do it huh?

It’s not the same, right? OK.

Hey kids, lets play a game of Spot The Difference:

Submit your answers to Young Nation.

But seriously, despite the fact that #Indicud is freaking dope, doesn’t mean that you should dress like him. For your own health benefits. Skinny jeans restrict blood circulation in the testicles, decreasing sperm production and testosterone in men.

Also the increased promotion of bromances. TROY & ABED. That friendship, no matter what you say, has serious homosexual tendencies. Ladies, can you imagine dealing with a boyfriend like that? That crazy chick can handle because she has white girl issues and is probably so grateful to have snagged a black man that she doesn’t realise that her boyfriend’s best friend is the living embodiment of psychosis. Troy and Abed in the morning… Troy and Abed shooting lava, Troy and Abed doing rimshots…. catchy huh?

Well, maybe I’m just tired of television. TV is just terrible nowadays. Everything is on the extreme side, the manly men are in Spartacus where they cut off people’s faces and wear them (I don’t know about you but I really wouldn’t want that to happen at Kencom when I’m just chilling for a jav and some brute is trying to get a number. No thanks.) or the ones Clay Muganda described in his very interesting (and 96.5% accurate) article about men that will reduce your family tree into a shrub. Then again, the alternative is sparkly vampires.

I’ve run out of batteries for this rant.

Also, on the pages section, you’ll notice they’re some new sections, check them out

 

I Hope I Die Before I Get Old

Reblogged from Listful Thinking:

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I had a tiny breakdown last week. I blame Theodore Roosevelt.

People go on and on about Roosevelt, talking about how he rode a moose, admiring him for getting shot just before a speech and powering through it, thanking him for regulating food so we don't accidentally eat poor orphans anymore. Whatever. He's always been a little too mainstream for me.

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I’m Ready For My Arrest

“We are ngoing to cash arr of you mbroggas…”

Yeah, so supposedly, were meant to be worried because if you say bad things about the government they will send out their finest boys to come and sort us out.

So its a couple of days to elections, and I am actually of the opinion that…… wait. My opinion, doesn’t matter. Know why? Because, ladies and gentlemen my Boobies, I didn’t register to be a voter.

Where my unregistered voters at what what!!???

I didn’t. Didn’t see the point. You know, everyone around me, from my sisters to my mother to my best friend to even the guy who sells smokies outside school (shout out to my nigga Davy) had insisted that everyone should go out and register because its your right and your duty and blah blah blah. There are a number of reasons I didn’t register to be a voter, and in the spirit of Thought Catalog I’ve decided to make a list.

(Thought Catalog this website that, if you’ve actually skimmed past this post -that is if the fact that I haven’t registered as a voter has put you off totally to my online presence- you’ll see I am a fan of. Which is something I recently reconsidered being proud of, after a very sarcastic friend pointed out that it was basically a website for sad single women looking for redemption. “Some women save hoes/ I’m not that heroic.” (Not in those words exactly, but the more you look at it the more you see it. As I write this article the last two published posts on Thought Catalog are “You Can’t Find Real Love Online” and “Pubes or No Pubes: Bring The Bush Back“. I won’t even touch on that last post, but I’m just guessing from the title that its just a feeble attempt at consoling those who aren’t getting any, by convincing them that somehow, pubic hair is a good thing. Or something. IT’S NOT. ANYWAY, they do have cool articles, and you should check them out.)

1. I.E.B.C. did not text me. This may seem like an extremely petty argument, and that’s exactly why I put it at the top of the list. Now this may seem as a joke, but these things kind of sting. Its already no lie that the government is filled with self absorbed politicians that don’t give a shit about their people.EXACTLY why its such a blow to my ego that they managed to text everyone except me. I mean its just a service. I’m not privy to the inner workings of the communications department of the IEBC but there is no way my number wasn’t in that database. Even those xaxa xweeti got those texts! I actually apologize to my followers when I exceed 140 characters but I don’t even get a “sup” from these guys? Fuck you then. Ethnic profiling???? Is it because my tribesmen do things like these….ok yeah maybe it is.
2. Peter Kenneth can gerrrrit. For the simple fact that I have said and stuck by this comment before and after the presidential debate means that I am not eligible to vote. I did listen to the debates (didn’t you see my tweets???) but honestly I can’t even remember what this guy said. All I know is that he’s hot, his son is hot, and he is hot. Very. Mmmmmm.
3. I belong to Generation Y(TF). Yeah, I do, and I don’t hide my shame behind my keyboard. actually I DO, and that’s the point of being a member of Gen Y The Fuck. Sometimes All the time on Twitter there’s a conversation that will turn into an argument that will turn into an all out war which eventually -regardless of the subject, be it Who’s That Munroe or the economic implications of the fiscal whatever the fuck that was- comes to a sloppy conclusion with people being thrown back into their respective “lanes” because at the end of the day we reached the peak of our social maturity in the schoolyard. Remember, “my dad’s car is better than yours!”? So because we have replaced “dad’s car” with “collection of national identification cards”, we have achieved maturity, yes? Because you can never get a word in sideways if you haven’t registered as a voter, and last I heard that paper isn’t even necessary on the D-Day itself. Generation YTF is too busy talking about irrelevant things online to be at the rallies listening to the leaders and the manifestos. Our version of political activism is sitting on the couch watching the Presidential Debate, armed with smartphone and Twitter client, listening out for the next statement that will generate a few memes and gather us a few retweets and likes. And I’m not any better. I’m sitting outside my house blogging about this instead of being at a peace rally. I belong to the age where I’m more concerned with my follower count that the CDF fund. I won’t dumb myself down completely, I do know enough about politics to sustain a conversation with people’s parents, however my pursuit of knowledge isn’t particularly rabid. I do it mostly to stay relevant, you can’t be stupid, not in these days. There’s too much pressure. Somehow you’re meant to have participated in the Harlem Shake, attained a certain high score in Temple Run, downloaded the new Kid Cudi track, and have a 15 minute speech ready when asked why you haven’t yet decided who you’re voting for. Gadaamnit. Take me slowly.

I could write a few more but to be honest I just don’t care enough about them to justify my lack of patriotism in detail. And I really wonder whether I’m just being a contrarian, that the only reason that I wasn’t caught up in the whole frenzy is because maybe because the other kids didn’t want to play with me and so I got stuck with the constant need to prove that I’m different and hence this whole keyboard anarchist story.

Isn’t it Angela Kariuki’s birthday today? “Yeaah screw this, lets go there she has better break than Olivia….JUST KEEP COUNTING!”

Maybe.

But why shouldn’t I say something about politics? Why shouldn’t I be able to openly mock those that have gone to the polls? I am totally unbiased. So I think that I have every right to say as much as I want. I should be able to openly mock Uhuru supporters that think they’re middle class just because of a couple of Land-rovers in the family, or Raila supporters who realized that he is about as eloquent in direct confrontation as Dane Cook is funny. But hey, I can’t. Coz I’ll be arrested, coz my friends will refuse to talk about it in the bar because “lets face it Olivia, you guys have Mudavadi, and whatever.”(true quote, stupid guys, don’t worry, they are dead to me changed their opinions), coz I’m a keyboard anarchist.

Even after that bogus CNN report (I mean KYAMAAAAN!) and Kenyans rising up to #VoteForPeace #GetUpAndVote #GiveUpTheDforD-Day or whatever new hashtag we’ve thought of to demonstrate patriotism with, we still don’t have faith in ourselves to be peaceful. Its why there’s stockpiling like mad in the urban centers, with people preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse.

(And by the way you guys are doing it so wrong as in *God forbid* if something was to happen there wouldn’t even be people to tell I told you so. You are all going to Nakumatt Mega to stock up on food supplies. In what zombie movie have they settled down to survive the apocalypse in a luxurious 4 bedroomed apartment all ensuite with swimming pool gum and sauna? None. Get out of the fucking city. Its densely populated. Its where the cops go first. In Zombieland they didn’t pan out to a farmer battling with his goat over a dead woman did they? Or you know what? Stay in town. We don’t need your kind round these parts *spits on can*)

Vote wise guys, we’re dying to hear about it. No, really.

 

21 Signs You're The Sad Single Friend

Reblogged from Thought Catalog:

1. People have stopped asking what's going on in your love life because they already know the answer, and they don't want to have that conversation again.

2. You have already given online dating a try and found that, despite the overwhelming number of messages you receive, most of them are too creepy and/or degrading to be perceived as flattering.

Read more… 470 more words

I just want to take you home and love me :( Hahaha :D

I Just Wanted To Tell You How My Day Was

Happy new…oh wait I did that already. Sorry, wrong blog

Hello my boobies!!! Oh yeah, I’m going to start calling you guys my boobies. Nicki Minaj has her Kens and Barbies, Lady Gaga has her Monsters, and you now have been dubbed as my BOOBIES!!! Always close to my heart and the source of my evil powers. (no, really. The more confident I feel as the dominating cup size the bitchier I become.)

So, the title is kind of obvious.

Anyway, so yesterday. Just another day, where you get angry and happy in alternating minutes. The kind of  day that starts and you really question whether continuing with any other plan is even a slightly good idea. That’s the kind of morning I had. From the minute I entered the jav (because, poor) I just was wary of the day. And I’ve been having such a good year so far, so every time something odd starts happening, I immediately start sobbing inwardly, to prepare myself for the endless waterfall of tears I’ll be shedding when The League Of Dark Shadows realizes that I am happy and punishes me. So it starts when I enter the jav and encounter the 5 stereotypes you don’t want to see on a semi-bad day. These are:

1. The Bitchy Fat Secretary 

The BFS. Shes the woman you don’t want to meet when going on a date, or to meet your friends, or EVER. Shes the woman who enters the jav and you are instantly overwhelmed by the scent of cheap ass perfume which she probably bathed in. You’re terrified it will stick on to you and you’ll be the next BFS to enter the jav because smelling like 150 bob will definitely put you in a bad mood. She has the most peculiar shades of nailpolish. The kind that looks chipped even after the first coat, and always glittery. But you have to applaud these women. They are evidently making an effort. Go get your man, girl!

And shes … well fat is a strong word. Hefty. Like she’d chase and tackle you like a rugby player if you dared interrupt her lunch break to ask for a stapler. Of course entering the jav and the first thing she does is to tell you “songa songa” and you instinctively bite back the response “WEWE KONDA KONDA!!!” because the image of being tackled remains in the head. So you remain squished against the window as her sickly sweet perfume with a whiff of ‘how can you be possibly sweating at this time’ sweat seeps into your clothes.

2. The “Where Did You Sleep” Guy

This guy just smells bad. He just smells really bad. As in MY GOD! Today’s featured one smelt just like he’d just peed himself and change the trousers but kept the boxers on. So my nose is really confused as to whether I want to smell her sweat or his piss.

(Yeah, these were the difficult decisions I was making as people were in bed tweeting. These are just signs that I should never leave the house. Like ever. *Taylor Swift voice*)

3. The Leering Conductor

Now this is the worst of the worst. The kange who whistles at women during traffic, who open the window from the other jav as expertly as possible and starts calling you msupa (has happened to me) or the one who asks for your number because you stupidly pulled out your phone to avert the awkward situation. The Leering Conductor is in his habitat. He is not perturbed by you ignoring him, and buffing his advances seems to provoke him either into intensifying the advances to the point of terrifying you into getting off (HA HA) a stage or five before your intended one OR embarrassing you in front of strangers. And not the insults that you can just brush off with the “fuck you you’re just a conductor.” Noooo, the hurtful ones, the ones you quietly ignore as your flaws but “you know its okay everyone has flaws”. He’ll pick on your giant forehead, your cheap phone, your chipped nail polish, things you didn’t even know a man would notice. Pick one. Either way, you won’t like it.

4.The Girl With The Plan

LEAST FAVORITE PERSON TO SEE. This is the girl who is absolutely stunning. The one who’s wearing heels in the jav, has managed to secure the lone seat, with her Hearts by Gaga and her Samsung Something New And Expensive, and the (real) LV wallet which she pulls out of her (real) Marc Jacobs handbag and proceeds to pay with a crisp 1000 bob note, and the Leering Conductor changes from that to The Patron Saint Of Courtesy and Etiquette and suddenly speaks the (Kikuyu) Kings English “don’t worries madam it is free for mbyuuriful girl like you” and proceeds to give you the dirtiest 50 bob ever. This girl then proceeds to flash her beautiful smile and continue texting “Boo Boo”. Ah, sigh. Jealousy has a face. And its not as pretty as hers.

5. The Kid

This juvenile delinquent with his studded and unnecessarily expensive KOFIA (because that’s what a snapback is) his ridiculous bag that he stole from his little brother on his first day of school his baggy but still somehow tight pants, and the shoes that were bought in individual boxes and were brought into the country by a tug boat. Nonsense. This kid has so much money for some ridiculous reason, and hes probably going to spend your house rent on a fucking watch for “the music video he’s appearing in next week”. These children make you so angry at the world for making you remember you have bills to pay, exams to do, errands to run and his biggest concern is ingiishaing Millie from Umo box. God. STRIKE THEM DOWN.

But even after seeing these people (in the same jav at the same damn time) i still had to get to town. Luckily I avoided all streets that the Naswa and Tujuane people haunt (I know what you’re up to and you will never catch me) and got home. Or well, to the corner. And this is where nonsense just happens.

Imagine this scenario. Hot lazy afternoon. I have a Coke Zero (yeah I am a slave to trends) 1l bottle in my hand. There is a guy slashing grass and talking to his construction worker buddy. There are 3 shops on that strip each manned by a woman and a man, each. There are 3 apartment blocks around, the watchmen are all outside.

Then THIS happens.

So, a woman starts yelling and I’m so used to noise in LA that I don’t realize that shes actually shouting MWIZI. So I turn, and find that there is a 7ft UFC light heavyweight hurtling towards me at 200km/h. Hes holding a black phone in his hand, the poor woman who has abandoned her very nice heels in some kichochoro and is in hot pursuit of the said Usain Kariuki. (its not a stereotype because all Kikuyus are thieves, his face was just so Kyuk. Sorry.)

Remember, guy slashing grass and construction worker? Usain runs in THEIR direction after debating which route was likely to be successful in terms of escape. Guy slashing grass, tosses his slasher aside and throws…. no, sorry, TOSSES, a rock at this man. So does construction guy. REALLY. A rock. You have a fucking weapon in your hand. Its basically a samurai sword in Kibera. And the guy flung it away, like BE GONE SLASHER I SHALL USE MY AWESOME POWER OVER ROCKS TO CATCH THE PERPETRAT-OR!!!! Idiot.

So this bright ploy to stop this nigga, doesn’t work (GASP I WONDER WHY). All it does is make him run TOWARDS ME and my coke zero. As in!!!! So I did the right thing. I FLUNG THE COKE AT HIM! And it make contact. (now before I am berated for being a total idiot. I must mention this. I was stoned. Now you understand. I’m not a drunk man who wants to prove I have testicles, I am a paranoid female citizen whose only test of violent strength was against a uselessly intoxicated girl. ) And anyway it made impact and exploded against his t-shirt. The gracious thief then decided to veer off into a different direction.

Suddenly, a private van and a Subaru race up from GOD KNOWS WHERE and apparently are in hot pursuit of this lad. The watchmen from the other other estates race down the hill and race towards him. Are you serious? Are you freaking serious? TWO CARS in HOT PURSUIT!!! Slasher guy and construction buddy are just chilling like, “mi hata sina simu!!!” Poor high heeled girl limps back with her feet bloody and bruised because her shoes are probably being stolen. Then after asking whats wrong, she sneers at me like its my fault that her phone is gone. Tsk.

Oh ya, the guy got away. LOL.

Have a nice day guys

The power of an author

Reblogged from kingzedek :

You don't understand how much power I have. I'm an author. I can create whatever I want at whatever time. I can craft a story, and neatly embed it in a world built by my own hands. My ideas form the fabric of the reality I create. and I do it with finesse.

Such finesse.

I merge beauty with depravity and the appealing with repulsiveness.

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