The GOLD, The Bad and The Ugly

Like every other phenomenon under study, human beings have their positive and negative characteristics. There is no absolute when it comes to humanity. Am guessing some people should be considered exceptions to the rule eg Hitler; though if you look at it from his point of view, he was working towards what he considered a greater good.

I am no exception to the rule; in fact my personalities can be so opposite and diverse that I consider myself borderline bi-polar. I can be a good person; I give to charity… in the form of old clothes, and coins in the tins at the supermarket till. I can be bad; I lie, I cheat, I steal. But I can also be downright ugly; I am a bit racist when it comes to dating, I have a bit of a superiority complex and needless to say, I am an alcoholic.(forgive me liver, for I know not what I am doing)

Basically, everyone in my life falls into their own perfectly knit weaving of the  good, the bad and the ugly.

We are now at that point in the ‘mourning’ process where Sheila is trying to reminisce on how it all went wrong. How she even ended up in this mess in the first place. She can’t seem to quite figure out what it was that initially attracted her to her man-devil, Jay.

Of course this had to somehow be twisted into being my fault, in this case because I sort of introduced them. I was also casually dating a married man at the time who happened to be Jay’s friend. I wonder what became of him and his overwhelmingly fat wallet. hmmmm…  Not to digress… back to Sheila.

She was/ is hopelessly trying to figure out what good there ever was in Jay. Sure he wasn’t bad in the sack, and yes he was so rich that he probably shits cash and as for the looks… better than average for a man his age; but nothing so spectacular that a girl should dream of him naked on a beach serenading her.

But when it came to the bad and the ugly… oh, boy! Was the list long? Their relationship was turmoil after turmoil. He wasn’t abusive or anything like that but he is the kind of man that thinks he can pay you to keep your mouth shut about everything that’s going wrong, and Sheila happens to be the kind of girl who will take a gold ring in place of a heart to heart conversation about feelings and all that mush. It was a whole year (give or take a few weeks) of girl gets spoilt and man gets a pretty young thing by his side to flaunt to his mates.

So we can’t exactly sum it up as all bad… no one would stick around for such torture. But when you spice it up with a few weekends in five star resorts, add a lil’ good sushi and fry it in a pool of VIP passes; I guess even I would definitely be tempted to settle for an all you can eat buffet of the gold, the bad and the ugly.

I Left My Heart In San Francisco

You know that saying; ‘all the way to Timbuktu”? It’s usually used to refer to something that is inexplicably far. Sadly, out of sheer ignorance some people use it without considering that Timbuktu might actually be right in their back yard. For instance people in West Africa and all of Africa for that matter shouldn’t use Timbuktu as a point of reference considering it is a place situated right in Africa.

I prefer to use ‘all the way to infinity’ or ‘from here to Andromeda’ or even  ‘from here to December’ depending on the month of the year. If you are going to exaggerate at least do it right!

But for the purpose of this blog and its affiliation with the cocktail, we have… San Francisco… that’s far enough, right?

Recipe for I left my heart in San Francisco

1 oz Patron® silver tequila
1 oz cranberry juice
1 oz triple sec
1/2 oz lime juice
1 cranberry
1 heart-shaped Cranberry Juice ice cubes

Make frozen ice cube with Cranberry Juice and 1 cranberry. Shake vigorously in cocktail shaker Patron Silver Tequila, Cranberry Juice, Triple Sec and Rose's Sweet Lime Juice. Strain into a cocktail glass, float heart shaped cranberry ice cube and serve.

The things we do for love…

This week has been all about the heart break. My schedule has been reduced to work, lunch with Sheila, work, drinks with Sheila, stopping her from drunk-dialing Jay, blacking out on her couch or mine, work... and the carousel continues. Which means: no real sleep and no face time with the boyfriend.

He has made a point of staying clear of the sobbing girl. I can’t blame him though, I am also about this | | close to bailing on her or throwing her in front of a moving toy car… lol.

The worst thing about this phase is that I am not allowed to be in love or act like it, every mention of The Boyfriend just starts another hysterical bout of tears. So for now, I am restrained to only one feeling towards men… HATE! 

Last night the boyfriend called me while I was at Sheila’s joking about how I had dumped him for Sheila.

T.B: Don’t you miss me? I could also go into a crying frenzy if that’s what it will take to get you here.”

Me:  I am not even allowed to like you, leave alone miss you right now

T.B:  you girls are just weird, how do you just shut off your heart just because your friend got dumped

Me:  it’s only fair; when you finally dump me she will be right here shutting off hers for me

T.B:  ok, but for now I need to see you, so go get your heart wherever you left it and meet me for lunch tomorrow

And in as much as I love my best friend; I can’t forget that I still have a boyfriend who hasn’t dumped me yet. So today Sheila, you’re on your own. I need a break, and I need to feel again…

I miss the untainted smell of tequila without that underlying smell of salty tears

I miss drinking for fun and not to drown the sound of sobs

I miss joking about the silly things that T.B did or said

I miss my unbroken friend

I miss sex

And most of all…

I miss my heart

Heart Breaker's special

The basic needs of woman hood

There are 5 things in life that a girl cannot do without; call them the basic needs of woman hood; food, shelter, clothing, education and a best friend. In fact a few have made it through so far without an education so we can scratch that off the list. Forget all the sensible stuff i.e. a shoulder to cry on, sound advice etc anyone can do that but there are those things that only someone who is willing to share a cell with you will do. 

1.       Bitch about the next girl

2.       Shop; whether its clothes or drugs or dildo’s

3.       Smack you in the face when you are being an arse

4.       Get drunk with you and yet make sure you don’t get carried off by some strange boy toy looking for a good time

My best friend is broken…

I have one of those; she would probably take first prize if there was a best friend competition. But as luck would have it… someone went and broke my best friend. Not just someone but a man she loves… those are the worst. The almost divorced father of two, Mr. Jay is now the recently ‘making up with his wife’ scum that broke her. 

Mirror / echo effect…

I am almost tempted to tell her that’s what you get for dating a married man. It’s true what people say… no matter what bullshit they feed you that ring is a yoke and they will always go back. But being the good friend that I am I will keep my opinions to myself; at least until she is sober enough to reason again. I hate this part, the crying, the banging of things on the wall… it’s almost too feminine for me. 

But I devised the perfect way to deal with the broken friend. All I have to do is mirror her, if she wants to throw a tantrum, I am right there with her, if she chooses to drown her sorrows, I get the glasses and get fucking soaked whether or not I have a meeting at dawn, if she grabs a shot gun I will get my shovel.

I have suffered my fair share of heartbreaks and now know that for at least a week that’s all one needs… to vent. After that we can start the quiet sobs and talking about how we will move on.

Soft landings…

I have a newly found respect for Jay; he had the nerve to tell Sheila that he was offering her a soft landing. That it was better now than she find out later that he is humping the wifey again. Anyone who has ever been in love or a semblance of it knows that there is no such thing as a soft landing. No matter how prepared you are for it to end it still hurts as bad as if you had walked in on him with your mother. 

Right now I’m busy preparing the ultimate heartbreak playlist on you tube. I am calling it SOFT LANDINGS

Tonight we will sit down to a bottle of whatever will be nearby, my best friend and I, and do whatever comes naturally; whether that means crying till morning for lost loves or carrying out a voodoo curse on them.

This one goes out to you Mr. Jay, for broken hearts, wasted tears, empty bottles and most importantly; soft landings.

 Cheers!

Love and other Drugs

For once I have broken the rules and the title is not a cocktail or alcoholic beverage of any kind. However, all the subtitles represent drinks so ideally I am not straying too far… besides, I made the rules… I can bend them…

Love…

The boyfriend and I have never really been able to find common ground on the love issue ever since P.S I Love You. Its either he loves me or I love him, just never at the same time. We haven’t had our “I love you; I love you too” moment. All the same, the relationship is at a very comfortable place, no night sweats wondering whether it will be over before I wake; we are just two consenting adults with a very intimate and passionate relationship. However, it doesn’t go without the occasional grand gesture that makes me know all too clearly that this man really does love me, words or no words.

And other drugs…

At the risk of appearing like I equate sex to love, I will say that some of our deepest moments have been shared during sushi, and by now I think I have mastered his sexual preferences in and out. Unless he is hiding a gay card or equivalent somewhere I have probably got his sex-crazes down to a tee.

Captain love lady / lady love fizz

Like most of his species TB loves it when I am in control, whether that means me on top or me initiating sex. The problem with this is that I too love being dominated in bed but for the sake of love, I will sometimes sacrifice just to see that zeal and unbelief when I unexpectedly appear naked.

Lesbian lover

Again another predictable fetish; that hard-on just pops up at the thought of watching girl on girl action and even more at the thought of a 3-sum, am still not entirely sure how comfortable I am with the idea but I did promise him at least 1 before he aged.

Love byte

This 1 I absolutely hate… I don’t think sushi should be painful in anyway but TB insists on giving me hickies… especially on my boobs and thighs. One time I actually bit him in vengeance; he was so shocked and quit the habit for a while but somehow it came back and I think it’s here to stay. I think it’s his way of marking his territory. I almost wish he could do that by peeing on me or something else… the purple clots are so disturbing.

Love potion #69

This is the most enjoyable of his fetishes. We love trying out new positions. Sometimes we even sit down, watch porn and when we see something we have never tried we will do our best, health and accident precautions observed, to try out all the positions.

Lovely lady juice

a.k.a squirt. Personally I have never been able to do it. In fact I am a bit doubtful as to whether those girls in the porn videos are not actually just peeing. But TB loves to see a girl squirt. If it is a skill that can be learnt someone please offer to teach me…

Love hotel

You can read more about this here

Pink lover

T.B is crazy about pink underwear, on a girl that is. This is to a point that he actually took me shopping and personally selected what he wants to see me in.

Love in an elevator

Funny enough the first time TB and I ever got 'naughty' was in an elevator and up to now whenever we get the rare occurrence of being in the same elevator alone we can’t help but sneak in a bit of a cuddle or something. We cant exactly go the whole way but it serves as very good foreplay

Good morning to you my love

Now who doesn’t love morning sex??? That morning hard-on was probably god’s personal gift to me… and luckily TB loves it too.

Love gin & juice

Drunk sex. There is something crazy about it. I think it’s the whole no inhibitions feeling of being drunk… but not to the point that 'it' cannot get up of course. Just a lil’ gin and juice to get the party started

curious comfort

There are a few things in this world that I will never understand.
Okay... Let me start on a more positive note; there are many things in this world that I do understand... Like computers, and math, and reverse parking. These are all objective things. Everyone knows that one plus one is two, never 11 or 3 or R; just 2. On a not so good day 1+1=3-1 or =0+2 maybe even =1*2 etc but at the end of the day it will always amount to two. And that friend is the beauty of objective.

On the other hand, there are things that won’t grasp my mind (I know that’s not how the saying goes but my brain is a sponge and it’s up to the knowledge to want to be retained.) like flirting… or football, that there is magic to me, how a man can chase a ball while kicking it without falling over… MAGIC!

I know that human beings are infinitely curious and hence the endless inventions and all that genius stuff that Einstein, Plato and their like are remembered for, so am hoping that some curious human will read this and shed some light on a sister (P.S someone told me that I am not allowed to use that phrase because I supposedly live in Lavington and hence don’t qualify to be a sister; seriously X are you really going to pull that racist shit on me? We are in Kenya… I am black… you are mental! Get help!)

Who cares if the earth is flat?



Seriously, who does? I know this is one of the things that has formed the foundation of what we call science but really, not to sound like a brainless slob who spends 6 hours stressing on a broken nail(which I do btw), but don’t you think that some people were hopelessly idle?? Pythagoras and homer and their fellow Greek men were either smoking some illegal shit or just plain jobless.

  Isaac Newton… apple falls and instead of eating it he thinks, why did the apple fall down and not up? The only time I can imagine such a reaction from myself is if I was thoroughly stoned. you know that moment when you are so high that you think you might fall off the earth... yep... I bet that's exactly where newton and his apple were.

The caveman rubbing those sticks together… WTF? I bet he was one step short of being called the village crazy, I bet when he saw the flames he must have thought… “Hmmmh; that was a lucky guess”

I dare you to ask…
Get idle or stoned or whatever it takes for you to ask that silly question that will put you in a history book. I want some poor kids some day to dread reading about me in a boring history or physics class.

And it all starts with that question that no one else is idle enough to ask? Just look around you and ask…

“Why do babies laugh? They say babies learn everything by mimicking so Is it because they have seen /felt their mothers react to happiness by laughing? If I didn’t laugh throughout the period that I was pregnant, would my baby be born laugh-less?”

“Do women in a comma still have their period?”

“Do we really have organs and vessels inside our bodies, or do they just appear as a reaction to light?”

I am just daring to ask… and no, I am not nearly stoned but I am terribly idle.

blue birthday monster

This morning I woke up with one of those ‘I anticipate serious happiness today’ smiles. It’s the kind of feeling that white kids have on Christmas morning and us normal kids had on our birthdays until we turned 17, the age at which either we stopped growing or people stopped caring enough to buy presents, or maybe that’s just me. Nowadays if you’re not fortunate enough to be yoking a boyfriend you can’t always count on people noticing it’s your birthday, leave alone buying you presents.(a wall post on Facebook doesn't count)

This year for my birthday, the boyfriend bought me a ring. It was the ultimate gesture of togetherness. I was all bubbly and other uncomfortable feelings trying to figure out what this meant for us. It wasn’t a wedding proposal or anything but it was inscribed so it sure as hell meant something. I thought that I had finally tamed this man-god of mine. 

Then, a week later the man-god cum man-devil lost my ring!! Again, I couldn’t help thinking that this too must be a grand gesture. Either he freaked out at the thought of such a high level of commitment or he was just hopelessly irresponsible. I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or just sad. 

In the spirit of being apologetic, he bought me a pair of shoes with a matching bag (not another ring!!, which would have more than made up for the loss) which is why am still convinced that he chickened out and hid the ring. The bag was nice none the less, I can’t complain much. It looked very expensive and very blue (not one of my favorite colors but on that bag it was wow!!)

The boyfriend is one hell of a bitter sweet melody. He buys me a ring (yeeeah!!) then he loses it (bummer!!); he knows my exact shoe size, but can’t figure out my ring size, even though I have a wide array of rings and he could have easily picked one to measure for size. At times I wish I would have just kept the ring as huge as it was.

Back to current affairs, after a long stress filled week, I am finally feeling happy, even jovial and very expectant. I have a sense of impending non-doom. 

Am in the mood for a private jet or a brand new Mercedes, maybe a house in the Kenyan version of the Hamptons… but I will settle for a free drink and sushi

Lady Luck

Lady luck has got me on a noose this week. For those who don’t know, Lady Luck aka Fortuna is the Greek goddess of fortune, she apparently has overall control on good and bad luck; and she must have some sort of grudge with me this week.

I am having what most people refer to as Murphy’s Law in action; I call it god having one of his deedee moments. Those,”what does this button do?” moments where he puts you in trial after trial after trial just to see your breaking point. Not the major stuff like death or illness, just the little things. Like when your sandal breaks smack in the middle of town and you have no money for new ones, then I bet him and the angels or whoever else is up there, will sit around a crystal ball watching you and betting on how long it takes you to cry.

Everything that can go wrong will go wrong…

From getting soaking wet in the rain to losing a phone still in the same rain and (the mother of all cliché) running out of fuel in traffic. I must say that this week has begun and continued on a very bad note. And that is only a sample of my misfortunes.

It’s only Wednesday (I think) and I am already exhausted. I don’t think I can stand another drop of rain (that’s a first for me) and all of a sudden I hate my job.

I just want to be 7 again, I will even settle for 13, as depressingly hormonal as I was at that stage, I would rather be crying in bed because some adolescent boy wrote a love letter to my best friend instead of me than sitting in bed too tired and mid-level depressed to sleep or even cry for that matter.

Right now I am sitting on my bed, its midday but I haven’t so much as gotten up to pee. My apartment is a mess, I am a mess. I have a sore throat developing and something else that feels like a permanent hangover, and did I mention that I now hate rain!

I have no idea where my car is. After it broke down on me I went into a minor panic attack, got out of the car, locked it and started my walk home dripping in tears and rain for the second time that day. Halfway through my walk, I was feeling a lil bit closer to human again so I called the boyfriend on my now only phone and again broke into a gibberish sob filled tale of how I might have just pawned off my car to thugs or whoever was willing to tow it away

He offered to take care of it, that man god him, and I made him swear that if at all it had been stolen he wouldn’t tell me about it until the next day. He still hasn’t called so it’s either everything is fine and the car is safely parked in his garage or alternatively, there is no more car and he is just deciding on the safest non manic-episode way to tell me.

I took the day off, on account of being sick but seriously all I wanted was a little me time.

Lady luck, if you are out there this is also a perfect chance for you to come and face me with whatever transgression you think I did to deserve this. Let’s talk it out, girl to god, if I can’t convince you to cut me loose, I will at least try to kill you. It is possible to kill a Greek mythical goddess, right???