What blues?

Everyone is always talking about Monday blues this, Monday blues that and I always wondered wat they felt like. Coz me, am an everyday girl. Especially Thursdays. But today I woke up and my wallet was gone. You would think the Monday blues would be coming on right then. But waa. All I could see was gray and black. Nothing blue about how my day was going. I could have given anything for the blues at that time.

Right when I was getting used to the fact that I will have no money for the rest of the year, I fix my flash disk in the computer and some fcuk face I had lent it to had deleted all of my documents. All of them. Now am seeing dark blue, dark black, blood and goth. Still nothing blue about my Monday. Why do they call them Monday blues any way? Anyone got an answer? Anyone?

What a bummer my day is turning out to be and its only 11:00am.

I am suing the Serena Hotel

So they have rumps for the disabled, elevators for the lazy, and TV for loungers, but cannot provide a simple thing for short people? What would happen if God forbid Sara short were to perform there? Huh? Huh?

While am still suing people, I just may sue KCC or Central govt or whatever, coz since before CHOGM, I noticed that they brought the pavements closer to my face. Why couldn’t they just leave well alone when the ground was just miles away from my face. Am not short sighted. Am just short.

So why am I suing the Serena? Recently, I went there for God knows what, I cant be bothered to remember. So being a ranked hotel, (you know like 1star, 2star, only it is there abouts of 5star) it has revolving doors, that also happen to be sensor doors. So I am already running late, I stand in front of one of these fancy doors. And the damn doors refuse to open. So I turn around to try and get help, and there, grinning like a fool, was the bell boy or whatever they call them outside Hollywood. He came over, raised his arm from behind me and the damn doors slid open. Turns out, am too short for the door sensors.

I may sue. I may not. Or I may just sue my mom

Help! There’s a blonde on my radio

So we know Seanice left very large shoes to fill, but surely, sanyu fm could have come up with a size ten woman to take over the breakfast show. Instead, we got served Melanie. A blonde with just the wrong shade of hair and color. She tries so hard to sound intelligent everyday, and everyday, she fails to pull it off. That is how she ends up getting into arguments she has no clue about. Hence her arguments always sound like, “If it’s not a girl it’s a boy. I can’t see it being anything else...”

Only yesterday, her co-presenter fatboy was analyzing a certain political figure and how he does not seem to give explanations for his actions. “…instead, he always goes on the defensive” concluded fatboy. To which Melanie replied “yea, and that could be dangerous for him. He should instead try to be on the offensive. ” I switched off the radio and looked through the window at the grass fly in every direction as it was mowed. Atleast the grass had an opinion.

Boss from hell

Usually, I like my editor. She is kinda nice and every so often accommodating, even if quite frankly, I give her a hard time. But not on this day. She wasn’t. She started off well, inviting a friend and I (I hate that speak. Why can’t I just say ‘me and my friend’?) for a cocktail party of some clothes shop in town. So am all excited to go, when I remember that this was the same day of the blogger’s get together. And I did not want to miss that. And wait wasn’t she a blogger too?

But the boss is boss. So we left, with her in tow. What she forgot to tell me was that it was a black and white party. I was wearing blue denims (I could just say jeans could I not?) and brown something. On second inspection though, I realized she could not have known judging from the all pink outfit she had on. After givin instructions and making sure I understood what kind of story she wanted, she told me she was off to the blogger’s get together!

I do not like my boss so much right now.

The devil wears nada

CHOGM month’s not been fair to me. Yea I know, no one said life was going to be fair to me at any stage of the way, but hey, it could have spared me some of the blows it has landed over the years.

But true to life, it never seems to let up. That is how I ended up having the worst month ever. The damn back pains and stomach pains that I’d earlier documented turned out to be a result of a bigger picture. It is embarrassing to say, but I have had my period for over a month now and it does not look like it is going anywhere anytime soon.

This debuted my first glimpse into the gynecologist’s office, and consequently, his bed. No silly, I mean the examination bed but oh well, I did wish it was his bed at some point.
Lying down on that bed and hearing him drone on and on about how everything was going to be okay, how I had nothing to worry about was when I decided, I needed to get complications like these very often, if hot, sexy doctors are what went with it.

Right there I decided, since he was having fun groping my tummy and well, other parts, I was gonna have my fun as well. That is when I started to undress him, first, that drab white coat, then his shirt, the pants went next and just as I was about to pull down his boxer shorts, I heard “D….., looks like everything is fine but we will just have to carry out further tests just in case…”
I zapped out of my daydream, gathered myself together, headed to the lab and left the wickedly sexy gynea to his job. Me and my imagination pffffft!

What you do in the dark…

Ya’ll heard Jesus say that didn’t you? No. I wasn’t there either, but I read my bible. So Jesus, apparently the worst communicator ever, (the guy could not call a spade a spade- you just had to figure it out in a parable, proverb or some tall yarn). So this one time he said “whatever you do in the dark, shall be brought to light” now, according to my brother in law, my sister gets up to no good in the night while they sleep. And he was about to expose her.

At first, I thought that the guy was going to reveal that my sister was a night dancer or something of the sort. But he looked at us earnestly and said he was going to sue for domestic violence. With concerned faces, (not me really. I was eagerly waiting for some drama to unfold) we all turned to him and listened.

Turns out that on several occasions he (my brother-in law) woke up with a sprained neck and painful jaws. His conclusion, “seems my wife slaps me while am sleeping”

I want to trade families.

Abusing the acronym…

I want to talk about LOL, short for, Laughing Out Loud
You only use it when you think that what the other person said/wrote was funny

I have seen many people use it even at the end of their own publications.
On a blog I visited recently, I was dismayed when I checked out comments posted and someone had commented thus,
“For us, at that place where i go every morning, meetings always go like that. Thats why we have an in-house shrink! LOL”

When you use it like this fool above, It means one or all of these things,
1. You are a shallow self righteous person who laughs at own not so funny jokes
2. You think the reader is some blond bimbo/ stud and therefore you have to explain to them that what you just said was funny
3. You are insulting the reader’s intelligence
4. You are insulting their integrity.
5. you have no sense of humor.

not ready to make nice…

In a very cramped, over crowded car, an argument ensued about whether gay guys should be hung, shot or crucified. Nothing about whether they should be hugged, loved and accepted. As far as the other occupants were concerned, there was only one verdict for homosexuals-death- and the only question remained, how it was going to be served out.

I chose to disagree. I disagreed that no, not all of the millions of gay people are insane and need medical attention, that no, not all of them would go to hell and no it was not my business to say what two grown up people got into (there is a pan there) in their spare time.

I said to them, no lesbian has ever stole from me, no gay man has ever murdered my relatives, no lesbian ever lied, cheated or raped me, so who was I to dictate their fate? To their argument that it (homosexuality) is against bible teachings, I said to them, is it not the same God that created each one of us in his likeliness? Is it not the same God that creates everything for a reason? Is it indeed not the same bible that tells us never to question God’s decisions? To accept them as they come?

The way I see it, for people to use the banner of the church/ religion to denounce and spread hate messages against fellow humans is not right. Hate messages that will cause one to harm another simply because of their sexual leanings, that, was simply wrong.

And in that crumpled car, a very angry woman asked “do you think what they are doing is right then?” very, very carefully, I told her “I don’t know.” And I said, it is not my place to say what is right or what is wrong, not my place to tell them from whom to draw their happiness, and certainly not my place to tell them what is awaiting them in the after life.

For in all honesty, no one really knows. All I ask is that they do not be judged.

beat that...

I am about 5”0(my friend P says its way lower than that) and once dated a 6”4 guy.where other guys call their girlfriends baby, honey, sugar, sweetheart and all that mucky stuff, idiot, as we shall refer to him from now on, fondly called me midget. Midge when it was an extremely romantic moment.

One year ago, a conversation took place.

Me: hey T am broke, may be you should lend me some money
Idiot: (looks at me, laughs) midge, you are probably richer than I am
Me: how come?
Idiot: what natural resources do you know?
Me: (tryn to sound smart) er, er, gold, timber, diamonds, oil….
Idiot: all of which come from the ground
Me: yea, but get to the point
Idiot: (looking at me incredulously) me and you, who is closer to the ground?
Me: @#$$%%^&&**%$#

despair is when...

Since I bin away, I added another year to my ever-expanding number. I decided to make B-day uneventful, refused to tell anyone about it, lest they ask the dreaded question. You know the one, “how old are you today?” just in case I had to lie about it in the near future (which I will) and someone put me on the spot about that one.

As if that was not bad enuff, I almost played THE trampcard. Yes. I almost died from a strange burning sensation in my stomach, which left me crawling around the house like a zombie when I needed to get around. My sister had a good laugh on that one. She called it “God’s mysterious ways” because I had refused to give her MY new wallet. My sharp mouth could not get me out of that one. So there, lying on the floor, panting like a fool, I gave my soul to Christ and hoped he would accept me when in about 5minutes my time came. It didn’t. Obviously.

Today, my woes are not yet over, may just play that trampcard after all. There is a burning sensation (like the sound of it) in my chest even if I have never touched a cigarette in my life. And contrary to what some of my colleagues say, it has nothing to do with the weight of the man I am supposedly carrying on top of me when they are not watching. Nosy bastards the whole lot.

black or white?

...that light at the end of the tunnel could be an approaching train....

here share this

I love comedy. I love stand up comedy especially.
Nothing cranks me up like a really obnoxious and
Mostly fat guy aiming jabs at an unsuspecting audience
And no I do not go for comedy night, do not care much
For the Amarula Family and Theatre Factory may well
Be a warehouse on 6th street that stocks up on props
And caricatures( sounded nice in my head).

I love yo mamma jokes
I love a guy who can take my mother apart
Piece by piece just with his foul mouth- and yes
I love my mother.
These are some of the ones i like to share wit u

1.yo mamma’s too fat, her tattoos have strechmarks
2.I was on top of your sister yesterday and I looked worried. So she asked me “what’s the matter?” I told her I was going to be on Yo Mamma (it a TV programme). And she said “don’t worry, everyone has been on her”
3.yo mamma’s got summer teeth. Some are(read summer) yellow, some are crooked and some are just missing.

weekend woes

Is it just me or was last weekend a month of Sundays?
I slept, woke up, ate- u know the normal time consuming tings
But no. time just stood still.
My sister’s shop got robbed by a guy(or chic) wit a sense of humor
He musta felt sori for my sis. He left an item of everything he stole.
One piece of Samona, one bungle, one packet of always, one bar of soap
One movit, even one strip of airtime.
He must have loved the dettol soap though, because that, he carried it all.

Back to the long weekend, this guy I like did not e-mail. I call that commitment issues
Major depression there. I decide to take matters in my hands and dictate that time
Speeds up so I went on location for the movie “kiwani”. You have all heard about it right?
That is where I met a really cute but short guy. And that is where that story will end.
New week, a lot on my mind, none of which I can put into words

the A-Z

this seems to be the in thing.
everyone has an A-Z of sorts
some of them hilrious
for a while now i hav thought hard about it
but hav stil failed to come up wit one
i guess some of us dont have it
i cant do an A-Z
i wont be bothered to think about
what to write on Q,X,V,K Yand Z

Chain mail/ chain messages

I am like the antichrist of chain mail. The lack of originality, the shallowness and the gullibility of the senders is almost nauseating. Most of the time I spam the e-mails, but you just can not spam the messages that come on phone.

Usually, I ignore these messages, do some cursing even if sender will not hear, dismiss these shallow people and hope to God that by not replying I am communicating that I can not come down to their level of brainlessness. Honest.

These are the same sentiments I held when on the 30th of last month some oaf sent me one of those messages promising that if I went on to send that message to 8 other people I would get money within four days.

It was the end of month. Get it? Huh? End of month, two very likely things. One is that I have been broke for like the last quarter, make that half quarter of the month so I could not be bothered to load my phone just so I can satisfy the whims of some very bored, very redundant person. The second one is that I had done my maths and realized that my wages had been deposited on my account two days prior, so it was very likely that within four days the cheque would have matured and viola! that’s money on my account.

So I did the sensible thing, refused to send it to anyone, deleted it, and went back to sleep, feeling happy about my genius. I was already mentally spending my salary when four days later, I went-gloating- to check my account and viola! empty. I scoured all my folders looking for the bloody message to try and send it and see whether my luck had changed, but I had deleted it. So there I was, broke, humbled and suddenly a believer in superstition.

He is leaving

My brother threatened to beat me up if I did not stop seeing him, I almost fought with my cousin’s friend over him, I fought with him constantly, fought with my boyfriends over him every so often, and now he is leaving.

He never held me, never told me he loved me, cheated on me, constantly put me down, was constantly competing with me on who spoke better English, who had the best jokes, who delivered the fastest punch lines, who knew the latest songs and latest videos, and now he is leaving.

He is Nigerian, he is Ugandan, speaks neither Nigerian nor Ugandan, says he was born on the wrong continent, calls himself a gypsy, says he is not like every body else- and he is not- is an ex-seminarian, and now he is leaving.

I left him, coz I wanted more, but I saw him every so often, coz I wanted him more. We flirted, we teased, we got back together. I was happy. And now he is leaving. I am sad now. But still he is leaving.

He is snobbish, corky, arrogant, he is a show off, he is leaving.

He is not leaving me.

He is going to the UK(he calls it outside countries)

He is going for treatment, but I know he is not coming back

He is leaving. I guess he is leaving me.

Why do they grow up?

Don’t you wish some times kids should just stay kids forever??

You say tomato, I say tomato
Once, we had not done the week’s shopping, and were running low on groceries at home. While cooking lunch, my sister realized there weren’t enough tomatoes to make the stew. She then sent my brother Gidi (9) to go to a nearby shop to buy tomatoes. Minutes later we were all bursting with laughter when Gidi entered the house carrying a bottle of TOMATO SAUCE.

Of blue soda and pressed bread
At a house warming party last year, when serving soda, I asked my little cousin Melysa (3) what type of soda she wanted. She looked me square in the face and replied, “blue soda”. A few months later, she was flower girl at my sister’s wedding. After grueling hours in the salon and church, everyone was tensed up, tired hungry and well, angry. There was not as smiling face in the bridal car cruising down Kampala road when she suddenly turned around and asked everyone “who knows how to iron bread?” and just like that, there was not a somber face in the bridal car cruising past the post office.

“daddy for sale”
When my dad passed on in 1998, my lil brother Gidi who was 4 then was adopted by my uncle who instructed him (gidi) to call him daddy. A little while later while visiting, Gidi looked at me earnestly and asked me “D, who is your new daddy?” I looked at him puzzled and asked him “well what do you mean gidi?” and he says, you see, me when my 1st daddy died, I got another one. I almost broke down and explained to him that it was not that easy. So he says, “why, don’t you have money to buy one?”

Ocean’s 11 right in our living room
Shamim, my adopted sister always gets excited when she has a cough. This is because she is a syrup junkie (simply put, a drug addict). She fakes cough all the time so she can get bought for syrup. I have never seen anyone so religiously dedicated to taking the correct dosage of medicine. But not Shamim. She wakes up staggering in the morning with a bottle of syrup and a scoop and she will not do anything else until she has been served her daily bread. Then after, she watches the clock and the syrup like a hawk until it is time for more. On one such occasion, she fell asleep midmorning, woke up and bought the syrup over. This time though, she looked disgruntled and was grumbling a lot. So when she gets near, she complains “D, do you know that Robert (our house help) is a thief?” I ask her how come? So she says “this morning, the cover (the box) of my medicine was tightly closed but now it is a bit open” on inspection of the box, I discovered the poor box had dog-ears from her constant poking and could not shut tight. In her eyes, Robert could as well be one of the Ocean’s 11. She does not trust him one iota.

Finally, pornography that is not x-rated

No, am not talking about the one that I take part in
I mean the one on my TV.
I am talking Big Brother.
It is a shame (yea right) how these guys appear on my TV and start having sex at odd hours of the night
Meaning that I am being robbed of my pleasures of watching Girls of the Play boy Mansion- not that I am complaining, seeing as it is a change from looking at a disgusting grandpa touching little blonde Hos.

So while Meryl and kweku go at it like rabbits, offuneka is plotting her TV porn debut in the comfort of her bed
Those kisses she planted on code and kweku man are out of this world. It looked like she had been practicing it in her head for quite a while. There is no way those kisses could have been spontaneous.
It was kinda disgusting though. She looked like she was sucking the seeds out of a bad orange……ugh
And this was day time television, which reminded me to check on the age bar and it said 16 for language and nudity.

That is when I said to myself, big brother has no sense of humour. He sits behind that screen albeit grinning, while the rest of Africa is fooled into thinking that he has any morals.
Oh how I love him. Disguising porn as some harmless entertaining show. Now I do not have to wait and watch porn when the rest of the world is sleeping. I can always claim, I did not think it was. I love big brother.

Picking your nose in public

Everyone gets the urge to pick their noses every so often, but this is no excuse to stick your finger deep in your nose and pluck out the clotted snot when people are watching. It is as disgusting as they get. i can assure you, there aint no gold in there, so stop digging.

Patricia, a girl I went to high school with lived for disgusting all of us. After extracting the snot from her nose, she went on to snack on it. Suffice it to say that no one ever accepted any eats from her-not even if you were starving to death. The other day, I saw Patrick; a friend I had not seen in a while was coming towards me. I walked faster, all smiles, eager to meet and catch up with everything I had missed. And just then, he did the unforgivable. He started picking his nose. When I reached him, I ignored the outstretched hand and gave him a huge hug that surprised both of us.

And then there was the school cook. It was either a personal vendetta against me, or the guy was just outright creepy. It seemed to me like every time I went to the kitchen, (do not ask what I was doing in that part of school) he would be picking his nose at the same time mingling the posho I was to eat that day. But since I could not go hungry for ever, I consoled myself that the heat had killed all the germs, said a prayer for my soul- since no amount of prayer could redeem that food- and ate.

this one time at…well I can go on and on about disgusting pick your nose in public stories, but that is not the point here A decent handkerchief goes for about shs500, so the next time that overwhelming urge to pick your nose in public hits, do us all a favour and use that handkerchief. That is what they were made for.

whats so bad about Flushing the toilet

You go about your business, even stand instead of sit on the toilet, take time to write a snide comment or two on the walls, or sometimes even smear them with evidence f the business you just took care of, but when it comes to the simple task of just turning a small knob to erase evidence of the activities you just did, you won’t participate. No sir. Not you.

Could it be that you think you have done a good job that you leave the results for everyone to see and admire? Could it be that you are in a rush to get out there, you forgot, or is it that you are just plain stupid. No body wants to see that big clump of excreta you just left behind; no one wants that kind of surprise sprung on them. No body wants to smell it. So just do us all a favour and do that very tedious, unpleasant task you can not be bothered to do. Flush the toilet.

When you get out f the toilet, let people go through the liberty of asking for directions to the toilet, instead of their good old sense of smell leading them there.It would be pleasant for a change to have to ask for directions to the toilet and not be led there by the gut wrenching, haunting smell emanating from room A.

Yes it is a scary place to be. No one wants to be in it for longer than they really need to. But the urge to rush out of the toilet right after shitting is no excuse for not flushing the toilet. People do not go to the toilet for recreation. In fact, the toilet is a very unpleasant place to spend any time, and yet we can not avoid it. So the least unpleasant you can make it for the people who will be faced with the misfortune of coming in after you, the better.

At my work place, there are even reminders on the walls for people to remember to flush the toilet-and I work in a place of some of the greatest media minds, but even they have to be reminded to flush the toilet. It is a simple common sense task but people simply won’t do it. But then again no body said common sense was common. To everyone.

Being rip van winkle

Being rip van winkle

The saying goes that sleep- yea not death- is a leveler, but true to tradition, for some of us, the degree of severity is more equal than the others’. Every time I try to remember something from when I was young, I was sleeping. My world for some reason used to revolve around sleep. Father used to say, “you will once be taken away by thieves while sleeping.” But that never seemed to deter me. Boy oh boy did I love my sleep. Wait a minute, I still do.

Because I was not the ideal child for my father, I aimed to please, as a result had this attachment to him that bordered on obsession. I simply adored the guy. As a result I used to hang around him a lot. On one of these afternoons, my dad and I were taking a walk on a dusty kabale road, and before I knew it I was staggering across the road. Dad thought I was just being silly, until ii actually fell in a pot hole. He pulled me out, dusted me and looked at me incredulously. There, I had wasted any chance of convincing him that I would be as good as any boy he had had.

And so my sleeping woes continued, and everyone at home seemed to accept me the way I was. That is how father made his first mistake. Taking me for granted. I loved the times when I fell sick, because then I got to sleep in my father’s bedroom. On one of these nights, my father assuming I was dead asleep, brought a girlfriend a long with him, after a night of drinking and got down to doing that thing that grown ups do.(don’t look shocked, there were two beds in his room) All the while I was listening. The next morning, I wore this all knowing look on my face, that left dad in no doubt that he had been discovered for what he was. Now I had my dad on my finger.

Then there was this time I could not stop dozing while doing my homework, so I decided to take a break and grab some fresh air on the veranda. That is where I was an hour later when I woke up to discover that I was soaked in rain that had been pouring for about 5 minutes before the cold finally rendered me conscious. I became the laughing stock of my family for over a year, until my younger sister shit her dress at school in terror of corporal punishment.

My sleeping habits had everyone scared for me every time they put me on a bus to a certain location, always fearing that I would miss the place while sleeping. They were never wrong. The soft purring of the vehicle as rubber hits stone is just a lullaby for me. Even now, after a hard day at work, it is a miracle that somehow I find my way home from wherever the taxi will have dropped me when I rouse myself from slumber.

And the one memory I am not proud to share is that once I even slept during sex.

now the exodus

since this is my blog page, i am goin to write abt myself...

atleast in the meantime
u already know my beginning
now my exodus

unlike the israelites, my journey was not defined

and the destination, not just one place.

my parents' wrangles apparently extended way after my christening

and by the time i was six months, they had realised that just like me, their union was a mistake in the first place

mother packed up her bags one night, left her two daughters behind

and me and her set off to kampala-from kanungu

naguru is where i was staying blissfully until father realised he needed me afterall
and coaxed me into going back to kanungu with him
a place he claimed, where sweets grew on trees
at 4yrs, i went back to being a village belle over again in kanungu.
father got a teaching job 45km awayin kabale and it was time to continue the journey.

sullen faced, disapointed that the majic sweet bearing trees had withered,
i packed my bags wondering what my next expedition had in store for me.

one and a half years later, it was time to move. again. we moved mbarara where my father had gotten a job as a doctor. from the bus park, we pushed our life's belongings(a few saucepans, a gunny sack with our clothess in there, plastic plates, and a kettle) on one wheel barrow towards our next life.

in 1998, it was time to pack my bags again to come live with mother in kampala and that is where i have been ever since. i guess this is my promised land- for now any way.

genesis of me

first God said let there be me, and there i was
nothing like what my parents expected
my mom- a light skinned angel
my dad- a boy, didnt matter what clolour
that marked the beginning of the love hate relationship
i have enjoyed since
hate becuase i was nt wat they prayed for
love becuase, well you can not not fall in love with a baby
and then ofcourse there was the naming problem
since they had not bargained for what i came out looking
there was bound to be a dilema on what to call me
my mom wanted to name me emily-
my dad would have none of it
if i was nt a boy physically, atleast i had to sound it
besides, he argued, every emily he knew lisped and was afraid it would rub off on me by virtue of , yeah you guessed it. name.
so my dad came up with frankie
my mom threatened divorce
after a string of names, they decided to go the political way-round table
so they called my uncles, aunts, grand parents and the maids...
hence the birth of a name...
welcome to my blog
enjoy the ride....
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