How i met him...

The first time I met him
It was a bad day. Bad because I was just standing at the fountain at garden city for no reason at all. Or none I can remember anyway, which is why I am just going to go ahead and call it a bad day. Anyway, so I am standing at the fountain looking lost when some guy carrying a rucksack walks by. As a rule, I tend not to be interested in anyone carrying a rucksack and that had not changed much that day. So I just stood there still being idle. Until his name was called out. “Guy” (as we shall call him for now) shouted a girl that was seated at the fountain gossiping. Guy turns around and I look at him now interested. His name had sounded familiar. That is when I squealed ‘aaaaaaaah’ before I clamped my mouth and turned away embarrassed. Guy did not know it, but I was a huge fan, and he was just standing there looking all ordinary like he did not know that his special place was up there with the other not very ordinary folks.

The last time I met him
Which was also the second time, was Wednesday. I got into a taxi and got into a seat beside a person that looked like an antisocial teenager, ears plugged, music blaring (I imagine it was, coz it is the general nature of ear plugs to mute the sound to the outside world. Again antisocial), surfing the Internet on his phone with hat pulled over his face like bad carmflouge. Anyway, I whip out my phone to continue reading the comments off of Chanel’s blog. I get to a comment by Baz and I laugh out so hard. That guy is funny. Before long I am asleep and possibly drooling, until I wake up when said taxi stops moving and I realize the taxi had been maliciously blocked off by a traffic guy. Now a young woman is calling her hotshot relative to send her a number of a hotshot traffic guy she can call and get that decision reversed and possibly guilty traffic cop fired.

Teenager next to me looks still disinterested in the world around him. Then his phone rings. Wait. That is not slang he is speaking. What kind of teenager is this? I steal a look and I recognize him! It is Guy! But I can’t be so sure so I stealthily lift the strap of his rucksack to check out the label. I whip out my phone and a text is sent. Sure. My friend tells me, Guy has a rucksack with that label. I ask my friend to call Guy up immediately. And sure enough, his phone rings a few seconds later. Confirmed. Now what do I do? Make small talk with passenger that will probably not hear? Tap him and introduce myself as a fan? A colleague? I decided to shut up and laugh nervously every so often. I was tempted to shut out “bye Guy” when he alighted but I thought that would be totally weird.

And that ladies and gentlemen is how I met Ernest Bazanye

Rucksack Label= M-net logo


The following takes place between 5:11pm and 5:13pm

Boy: oh yeah, I got a nephew
Girl: awww. What sex is the baby?
Boy stares at girl in mock disbelief
Girl: the baby, what sex is it?
Boy staring fixedly at girl with another blank incredulous look
Girl: what?
Boy now totally at wits end
Girl: (about to break question down to boy when it finally dawns on her) ooooohhhh. Nephew!

i swear that was not me


I have been forced to change my earlier stand. I might have been the girl in question but I would also like to take this opportunity to change my plea to not guilty by reason of insanity. No really, i had been feeling sleepy all day.

work,bloody work, freaking bloody work

I work for a newspaper. Which is sad really, because I believe that my true calling is in bed. No. Not working. Just sleeping. Lately, I really hate my job. Sure I have had those moments before in the past where I did not want to see the inside of our office again, only to come back all wistful and apologetic- apologizing to my desk and computer that is- but this time, the whole I hate my job routine has lasted longer than normal. Which can only mean one thing; that I need to come into my inheritance soon so that I can really go do that duty for which I was crafted out to do. Sleep. I mean, me and my bed have this amazing rapport, I get all teary just thinking about it.

Since I have not come into my inheritance yet, I still slave at this newspaper. Its name; “the chapter.” so I have been away from work for three days, only to come back and find that some nits had imposed on me some stupid assignments. I mean, there is like 400 other dedicated writers and they had to go and give the assignment to the one person that did not really want it! Apparently, they (newspaper) are revamping their look, introducing new magazines with in existing magazines. I know. Weird. Right? So I am supposed to write a sorta promotional story. What? Are they fucking kidding me? I would sooner promote the charcoal stove than this er, er, thing. But they are the bosses. So I took the assignment, and here is how it turned out.

The chapter’s fucking revamping like they have nothing else in the world to do
Antipop from Kanungu

Your favorite daily has found even more ways to torture your already miserable life. On top of their already sleep inducing Monday nightmares (yes, really. There is a sleep inducing nightmare out there) they are revamping the Monday paper to include a men’s section as if we do not already have enough fagots(no offense whomever. i diss straight guys all the time and they do not curl up and cry over it) traversing Uganda as it is. I mean seriously!

They (the paper, remember?) are spreading out content and design to include the public. I mean more like stretching the public’s patience and endurance. What the readers (are there any?) should spread out is their palms across the editor’s face. Seriously how much more of this crap can the public take. One unqualified source aka editor says that readers can write in and tell us their stories. Yea. Why don’t you go ahead and light a fire and invite people to tell folk tales, while I die from misery and embarrassment.

Asked what the public is benefiting from this selfish gesture, another unqualified source said, “it is meant to give people a bigger platform.” Who freaking needs any more platform. We already have the constitutional square as a platform. Look how many people have been arrested there so far. What is to stop those same morons from arresting you no doers for wielding a daily chapter newspaper? If you guys know what is good for you, you should never buy another chapter psuedo newspaper. What a bunch of jokers all these editors are!

What a freak show! What pure nonsense. What garbage. The chapter indeed! How about I introduce you to the next chapter in your shameless life that reads; THE END.

This assignment required me to write 800 words but I cannot be bothered to make up more words. If you editors feel compelled to, come up with your own gibberish. I am done sucking face.
For God and My country

I guess now is when I beg you not to tattle to my employers?

My aunt’s clueless

We all have him/her. The family idiot. And for outsiders, that might be their village idiot. Well, I am only hoping that nobody from my family reads this blog or I am a dead woman. Girl. Boy? Anyway, so this aunt of mine, who is very rich by the way, has very many off days. She says the weirdest things, interprets things in the weirdest way, and is well, weird. One time we were having a conversation about a certain guy. Now, said guy is really proficient with computers. So my aunt jumps out of the group and screams (because she is not capable of not shouting) “oh, that one. I know him. He is a computer lizard!”

We let that one slide

In 2006, some of the world’s greatest sportsmen gathered someplace to play one of the world’s most popular games. Football.
The tournament; World Cup.
Medium; DSTV.
Venue; the sitting room.
Crowd; myself, my aunt, and various uncles and cousins
As all football games are not known to go very well all through, this one did not. At one point, the referee pulls out a yellow card, shows it to one of the players, who then walks away. Then my aunt shouts, “He has refused to take it. He has refused. Can you believe it? He has refused it. The man has refused to take the card. Look all of you... ”

Some minutes later…

A goal is scored. What normally happens here is that the deed is then replayed in slow motion and from different angles to allow viewers to get to enjoy the genius behind the shot. Or whatever it is people enjoy about slow motion replays of scored goals. So she is all excited about that goal and when they put the slow replay she says “another one! They have scored another one. And it is the same guy. In the same way he scored the last one. Is the goalkeeper stupid? How can he make the same mistake more than once? ”

Weird* = dumb

Dont You Just Hate?

Don’t you just hate?

How writers are quick to put laziness down to writer’s block?

When you call somebody and they say "I have been meaning to call you." Oh Yea? And what did you do about it?

When the soap drops into the toilet bowl? And having to yank it out? And then use it again?

In The Godfather II, when the dead girl breathes.

When singers ask you to ‘say yeeeeaaaaaaaaahhh!’ even when your prior silence means you totally disagree. And you open your mouth to say “heck no” and out comes, yeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhh

Or when a show host asks you to “make some noise” for a guest or other. Dude. If we thought they were worth the noise we would be screaming our lungs out already

When just before he pulls off your pants you remember that there is a hole in your knickers.

When he pushes your head down there

When you are walking along the street and a guy says to you “size yange” dude seriously. I am not fat (phffffft), sweaty, dirty and smelly. How can I possibly be sayizi yo?

In the morning when you realize that none of your shoes matches that perfect outfit you picked out the night before.


When you duck into a secluded place to untangle that wedgie only to realize after doing it that someone was watching the whole time. Now they are smiling wickedly.

When you let out that silent one and pray to the heavens for odorless mercies and seconds later only to be hit with a horrid smell that could only be emanating from your rear

That your favorite bongo flava artist broke his legs and you can’t for the life of you know for sure how that happened

i am back like disco

News reaching me is that a certain morning show host said mbu Ugandan bloggers have beef for Melanie and are jealous of her because their boyfriends probably have the hots for her. This exonerates the male bloggers obviously, well except GUG. So as a female blogger who might have been targeted in this attack, here is my response.

1. I have no known boyfriends past or present who have a thing for Melanie. I swear. They have never told me.
2. Ofcourse we do not hate Melanie. I know I don’t. She is a sweet, sweet girl that has provided for many an amusing and entertaining morning. Like the other time when she said “down south in Djibouti,” I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes. Now tell me, how can that possibly be interpreted as hate and beef and jealousy? Aha! Truth is, each one of us has an off day. I have a lot of those. Feel free to pick on me
3. Really male radio presenter, for someone as smart as you to advance such an argument is very, very disappointing. Just because we disagree sometime does not mean we have a personal vendetta against a person. Not all girls are necessarily threatened by the existence of other females. Does any sort of disagreement have to be about men? And that was not the first time said presenter is equating a situation with envy and jealousy. I remember when nude pictures of Cindy came out, his first comment was, “look at her, she is flawless, I know many women will be jealous of her coz she has no cellulite, no stretch marks and no ounce of fat on her.” Women do not necessarily hate each other Mr. Radio presenter
4. Why? Why would you broadcast something like that? Why would you go on national radio and say that bloggers think Melanie does not have intellectual KB? Why are you letting everyone else in on it? To what benefit sir?
5. If I have been hard on you Melanie, I ask that you er, forgive?

It was Ivan’s birthday on Friday and I promised him I would say something. So here I go; I am sorry that you are growing old Ivan. Really I am

Apparently, Jesus was an attention seeker. I was watching a programme called “Faith and Science” on LTV at the weekend and this guy says, “Jesus did not weep because Lazarus was dead. He weeped (sic) because people were looking at him.” All this time I thought Jesus was weeping for His tight buddy but this guy here is telling me that He was being like those Baganda women. So Lazarus’ sister went to ‘Jerusalem Rent a Weeper’ and along came Jesus?

How have y’all been?
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