so there was a heavy downpour the day K-CI and jojo were supposed to perform, so they have not performed yet. i hear they are performing today. i say they should just pack up they bags and go home. just to save them the embarassment of getting on stage and there are no revellers, coz lets face it, they are way past their sale-by date. plus, they had like what two hits? or was it one? anyway, so they are going to perform tonite on a wednesday, just before the end of the month... i am telling you i have bad vibes about this show.
i did head this post AIDS is real so i guess i owe y'all an explanation. yesterday, a work mate came with this wild(what i thought at first)tale about having seen a list of people living with HIV in this town. i hear she got it from a very reliable source bla bla bla. anyway, some of the names on that list were all too farmiliar-not because i have slept with any of those people- but because some of those people have slept with peope i have been very close to. this revelation shook me so bad i rushe to the loos to get sick. turns out, this very pretty 20 something hot babe, got enticed by this night club mogul(married), who got her a house, furnished it, gives her an enormous monthly allowance, but also gave the HIV(for good measure?). i know this gal.
anyway, why it hit home so much is because she is so hot, every guy i knew wanted to go to bed with her. so imagine the average guy dates her, goes to bed with her, things dont work out, average guy meets average girl(me?), she goes to bed with him...you see the cycle? that right there is what got me shook pretty bad.
anyway, later in the afternoon i got news that some guy that once dated my cousin had passed on from AIDS. he was only 27!!! dont you just hate it when a person that young dies?
so be careful y'all. this is for real. AIDS KILLS!!!!
about crafty
Most of you probably have interesting stories to share about this long holiday. I have none. And that is especially because my social life is non-existent. Zero. Zilch. Numero nothing. I go to work, home, then work, then home. So everything I know has been courtesy of a rumor. Which is how I heard that K-CI and Jojo was in town. Do you remember them? No? Me neither. I have not heard news about what it is they sung, how they sung it (considering one of them lost his voice) and to whom.
Enough about rumors. Today I want to tell you about this girl I know.
Now, ‘Crafty’ as she will be referred to from here on is not your average case of miss know it all. This one is a serial case of miss know it all. If you have a headache, she has a migraine. If you need tooth filling, she needs a jaw transplant, if you know someone who got his or her toe operated on, she witnessed a bone marrow transplant. Or like if you say you were at the commissioning of the new mosque, she will tell you about her visit to the taj mahal. You get?
I have failed to come up with a topic that crafty does not know anything about yet. I mean geez!! when I am telling about something I saw on TV, she has actually been to those places. Like the other day we were talking about Australia and she said, “When I was on a boda-boda to Australia,…” okay she never said boda-boda but you get it. I mean, who even goes to Australia? So anyway, most of her sentences begin like “in London we used to…” “my worst plane ride was…” “At Wal-Mart I …” “My Italian friends they…”
This one time we are talking about identity cards and she goes like, “Me, my UK passport is like my international I.D. I use it all the time bla bla bla…” I mean damn! Why would anyone want to steer a good old-fashioned conversation about cheap Ugandan identity cards toward international travel documents?
Oh, and did I mention she uses her visa card to shop for things off e-bay, Amazon and www dot something or other?
p.s. I have never been anywhere outside Uganda- this could probably explain the obvious spite in the above post. Or maybe crafty is a bit much? Let me know.
Enough about rumors. Today I want to tell you about this girl I know.
Now, ‘Crafty’ as she will be referred to from here on is not your average case of miss know it all. This one is a serial case of miss know it all. If you have a headache, she has a migraine. If you need tooth filling, she needs a jaw transplant, if you know someone who got his or her toe operated on, she witnessed a bone marrow transplant. Or like if you say you were at the commissioning of the new mosque, she will tell you about her visit to the taj mahal. You get?
I have failed to come up with a topic that crafty does not know anything about yet. I mean geez!! when I am telling about something I saw on TV, she has actually been to those places. Like the other day we were talking about Australia and she said, “When I was on a boda-boda to Australia,…” okay she never said boda-boda but you get it. I mean, who even goes to Australia? So anyway, most of her sentences begin like “in London we used to…” “my worst plane ride was…” “At Wal-Mart I …” “My Italian friends they…”
This one time we are talking about identity cards and she goes like, “Me, my UK passport is like my international I.D. I use it all the time bla bla bla…” I mean damn! Why would anyone want to steer a good old-fashioned conversation about cheap Ugandan identity cards toward international travel documents?
Oh, and did I mention she uses her visa card to shop for things off e-bay, Amazon and www dot something or other?
p.s. I have never been anywhere outside Uganda- this could probably explain the obvious spite in the above post. Or maybe crafty is a bit much? Let me know.
picturesque- whatever that means
so i figure, since she has some good pics to show, to be fair and balanced, i have decided to put up a few crappy ones of my own. you know, just so we have both sides of pictography covered. here we go.
misery is, when you wake up on a monday morning, don your fresh week best shirt, board the taxi ride to work oblivious to the fact that you have on the same shirt as the taxi conductor
this blogger carries this bag to work everyday. the other day,she carried it to a job interview in a major telecommunications comapny. did she get the job? go figure.
that is my dressing table area. this picture i took on sunday. those clothes i was wearing on thursday. that is what my room looks like evrydyay of the week. i am lucky when i have walking space. one of the things i hope to change by end of year.
in case government had other ideas...
posh spice sleeps with this guy. padded underwear and all. i wish i could say i took this picture, but i did not.
after all the trouble i have gone to to post these pictures on crappy blogspot, i can assure you this is the last time i will post any pictures. oh who i am kidding. it is the last time becuase now i realise my phone does not take such great pictures afterall.
misery is, when you wake up on a monday morning, don your fresh week best shirt, board the taxi ride to work oblivious to the fact that you have on the same shirt as the taxi conductor
this blogger carries this bag to work everyday. the other day,she carried it to a job interview in a major telecommunications comapny. did she get the job? go figure.
that is my dressing table area. this picture i took on sunday. those clothes i was wearing on thursday. that is what my room looks like evrydyay of the week. i am lucky when i have walking space. one of the things i hope to change by end of year.
in case government had other ideas...
posh spice sleeps with this guy. padded underwear and all. i wish i could say i took this picture, but i did not.
after all the trouble i have gone to to post these pictures on crappy blogspot, i can assure you this is the last time i will post any pictures. oh who i am kidding. it is the last time becuase now i realise my phone does not take such great pictures afterall.
thursday, the thirteenth
I refuse to be superstitious, I do not even tolerate it. But all this bravado flies out the window at the sight of the number 13, on the 13th, and even plot13 scares me shitless. I guess you can say, other than snakes, that is the thing I fear the most on earth. But I didn’t always have this phobia.
The first time 13 became a no-no number for me, I was too young to pay it any mind. But the memory just never faded. I used to be a star pupil when I was a lil younger. I always averaged somewhere between the 1st and 2nd positions and the first time I was not in that bracket, I shot up all the way to 13th place. I will never forget the look on my dad’s face when I handed him that report card. Needless to say, I was treated as a social outcast for the rest of the holiday. I was in P.4.
Fast forward to S.1. I turned 13. This woman that was not my mother landed on my diary and thought daddy would be interested in what it had to say. Daddy did not like what was in it, stopped liking me for a while, and even refused to come see me at school that visiting day. That was the worst term I had in school. Towards the end of the term, I was summoned to the principal’s office. I thought my dad had gotten some sense afterall and come to be a parent. There was a parent all right, but it was my mother. Come to tell me that my sister who was only 17 had died at school.
I flunked my math exam that term and was asked to repeat S.1, which I refused to do and got transferred to another school. 7 months later, the teacher on duty came to pick me from class at 8pm. My dad had died. Just 2 months shy of my 14th birthday.
2004, December 13th, I am chilling with a one loser when mum calls. My aunt who we had been staying with had succumbed to THE disease. She had left a lil sick gal-now my adopted sister.
April 13th 2005, 6:00am, I receive a text message. My cousin Patience dead from an asthma attack aged 15.
Today is the 13th. That sense of foreboding that always grips me at the mention or sight of this number is hanging around me.
The first time 13 became a no-no number for me, I was too young to pay it any mind. But the memory just never faded. I used to be a star pupil when I was a lil younger. I always averaged somewhere between the 1st and 2nd positions and the first time I was not in that bracket, I shot up all the way to 13th place. I will never forget the look on my dad’s face when I handed him that report card. Needless to say, I was treated as a social outcast for the rest of the holiday. I was in P.4.
Fast forward to S.1. I turned 13. This woman that was not my mother landed on my diary and thought daddy would be interested in what it had to say. Daddy did not like what was in it, stopped liking me for a while, and even refused to come see me at school that visiting day. That was the worst term I had in school. Towards the end of the term, I was summoned to the principal’s office. I thought my dad had gotten some sense afterall and come to be a parent. There was a parent all right, but it was my mother. Come to tell me that my sister who was only 17 had died at school.
I flunked my math exam that term and was asked to repeat S.1, which I refused to do and got transferred to another school. 7 months later, the teacher on duty came to pick me from class at 8pm. My dad had died. Just 2 months shy of my 14th birthday.
2004, December 13th, I am chilling with a one loser when mum calls. My aunt who we had been staying with had succumbed to THE disease. She had left a lil sick gal-now my adopted sister.
April 13th 2005, 6:00am, I receive a text message. My cousin Patience dead from an asthma attack aged 15.
Today is the 13th. That sense of foreboding that always grips me at the mention or sight of this number is hanging around me.
guilty
For all of you that have been bitching about my absence
Here I am
I have no good tales to tell about where I have been
Because to be honest, I have been up to no good
And if this explanation is not good ‘nuff for you
Sue me.
Call the Hague and convene a war crimes tribunal
Or child support services and cite neglect and abandonment
Or maybe Bill Gates and tell him am not utilizing his services
Coz am just not goin to apologise for bein away
And especially for coming back with nothing to write about
Here I am
I have no good tales to tell about where I have been
Because to be honest, I have been up to no good
And if this explanation is not good ‘nuff for you
Sue me.
Call the Hague and convene a war crimes tribunal
Or child support services and cite neglect and abandonment
Or maybe Bill Gates and tell him am not utilizing his services
Coz am just not goin to apologise for bein away
And especially for coming back with nothing to write about