let there be me

Yellow, the vaccine you have called…

2011-01-06T00:56:00.000-08:00

Dr. Paul Kaggwa, the Assistant Commissioner of health at the Ministry of Health cut a very nervous picture; wringing his hands from time to time- only stopping to pull a wet handkerchief from his tailored trouser to wipe rivulets of sweat pouring from every crevice on his skin and pacing back and forth. You see, the good doctor was anxiously waiting for a telephone call from mars to no avail. Didn’t Pakalast cover the entire galaxy? And so he fumed and puffed and perspired on…

According to the New Vision Tuesday 4 Jan 2011, the Ministry of health has postponed the mass vaccination exercise against yellow fever that was slated to kick off the same day due to scarcity of the vaccine. Dr. Paul Kagwa said this was because the ministry had not yet gotten feedback regarding the availability of the vaccine. According to the article, the vaccine is being procured from WHO and United States Center for Disease Control (CDC) (at shs 8 billion) all bodies which I am quite certain have their head quarters here on earth and could be reached for feedback never mind that by the time the ministry communicated dates for this mass exercise we expect them to have carried out their homework about simple logistical issues like shipping and such.

What is baffling about a situation like this is an incident plastered in today’s press report in one of the dailies detailing the unmasked shamelessness and haste with which MPs donned their Santa hats a trifle late and ‘forced through the approval of more than 600 billion in emergency spending’ (Daily Monitor Jan 5 2011 pg 1) 95 billion of that being a late Christmas gift to State House. Quite possibly the same chaps that voted to scrap the presidential term limits and got compensated handsomely according to unconfirmed (who are we kidding) media reports.

They have a mandatory I-do-not-know-how-many plenary sittings a year that they use as opportunities to catch up on lost sleep (since they probably spent the previous night counting the millions they have accumulated from bribes) while bill after bill is tabled and eventually trashed and yet a ‘special’ sitting of parliament is held and all of a sudden they are eager to cast votes. This while their people languish in poverty, rot from a jigger epidemic, are washed away by floods and die from preventable and treatable diseases.

It has been two months since the Yellow Fever outbreak in which 45 people have already died and two million at risk of catching it and we are still just waiting for confirmation about the availability of the vaccine yet no ‘special sitting of Parliament’ has been summoned and dizzying amounts allocated in a ‘spare no costs’ type show of generosity they are easily according their boss. And so you have to wonder what these MPs’ motives really are evidenced by the snail pace they pick up when it is time to address issues facing real people with real problems and real needs other than an obsessive need to please egotistical self serving childish desires to cling to and abuse power.

All hope is not lost in the fight against the disease as ‘experts have been deployed to areas bordering regions that have been hit by the disease ...to prevent further spread of the disease.’ And so do not be alarmed when you find human experts from the Ministry of Health tussling it out with a yellowish looking virus creature thingy to try and prevent it from heading on to the next district. I am sure this measure will provide a lot of comfort to the families of those that have lost loved ones, have patients battling the disease all the while wondering whether it is their turn next and will somebody please hurry up with the damn vaccine already?

‘mpenkoni, mpenkoni…’ chimes the ringtone on Dr. Kaggwa’s iPhone4. He anxiously tries to pull it out of the other pocket that thankfully does not bear the now uselessly soppy handkerchief but it is stuck in the maze of keys to his Mercedes, his Ntinda flat, Kololo Mansion, Range Rover, Lexus and the intricately designed key to his safe. He finally disentangles the phone.

Hello? Is this the call I have been waiting for from the space shuttle? Are the yellow fever vaccines ready? Should I just call the whole thing off permanently? He bellows.

No. This is Cathy. I think your wife might have found out about that trip we took last month to Dubai. Remember? The one where you were supposed to be on State Duty attending a conference on Aids in China? Yea. She’s obviously upset about it and is still screaming on the second blackberry you bought me…

You are black! Said Ofwono Opondo to the Media

2010-10-11T09:07:00.000-07:00

Shock gripped Uchumi Supermarket employees recently when they came to work in the morning and found, converging at a meeting; the entire stock of underwear and pens laughing heartily and high fiving. No they weren’t. They were cowering under the shelves because they had read in the news that Ofwono Opondo had attacked journalists. They thought they were next.

You can remember that a couple of years back Ofwono Opondo and as he so aptly describes himself a ‘regular and reliable news source’ went into a then new Uchumi Supermarket and allegedly shoplifted a pen and two(?) pairs of underwear. He was caught. He became a disgrace. His party NRM kept him on in a top position even eventually made him the party spokesman. I wonder how that played out though

-so, we are looking for an individual that will be the mouth piece of the party
-let’s see, we have embezzlers, the corrupt, timber thieves, HIV and Tuberculosis money thieves, power sticklers….
-hmmm, we seem to be in a bit of a pickle here, chimed one as he tried to balance his fat behind on the fat wallet of cash in his back pocket
-the visionary man then looks around the room and then points at a man trying to knick a pen nestled in the cranny between the ear and the hair of his colleague.
-you. Kleptomaniac. You talk for the party.

And that is the story of how Ofwono Opondo was elected NRM Spokesperson and has since been interviewed and quoted as an authority and well, talked to as if the world held him in high esteem.

At the end of last month, Ofwono penned what was a very insightful and quite frankly spot on and a long time coming article about the diminishing integrity of journalism stemming right from the top Editors and seeping right to the overly exploited, poorly paid freelance journalist. He said that at a concluded NRM National Conference journalists attacked NRM officials demanding for cash…

As a journalist who always used to be treated like a common criminal every time I went to the accounts department to ask for a miserly 3,000 transport refund from the company, I can understand why when presented with a brown envelope or wads of little cash, a journalist would quickly jump at it.

Either that or arm chair journalism which I am ashamed to say that for most of the time before I left the journalism field that I loved so much, I turned down assignments that required for me to travel further than the middle of the town to get to a source because at the end of the day, the trouble you went thru to get the refund from accounts coupled with the miserable wages at the end of the month are just not worth it. But at the end of the day, miserable wages or not, it is disgraceful for journalists to ask for and expect monetary and or any other favors in exchange for stories.

Of course corporate companies will go to all lengths to ensure that their stories run at all costs including paying off editors and ‘facilitating’ the journalists that have come to cover these functions. Journalists who are used to this kind of treatment will then always expect that whenever they are invited by a company or organisation to cover a story, it is only given that they are compensated for the time and effort.

So here is the diagnosis. That journalists are underpaid and hence have no qualms about taking and sometimes even demanding for monetary favors from organisations. This Diagnosis however, does not offer any solutions. Dr. House is not going to strut in on the 38th minute, wave his cane at the patient’s toe ring, proclaim that if she were to take it off, the levels of toxins in her brain would decrease and she would be healed forever. No. Perhaps this show will go on longer. First, they will amputate the toe in the 40th minute, snip off the foot at the hour, maybe the leg will soon follow at the 90 minute mark and hopefully by then the gangrene will have been curbed. And the amputated leg will forever be buried with all the editors in chief who have no qualms about selling advertising for editorial favors, who take millions in cash in exchange for ‘killing’ a story about a high profile member of society while they practice double standards to their employees preaching the evil in accepting brown envelopes. And hopefully with intensive treatment, better pay, better working conditions, better medical and other benefits, long after House has ended, we shall find a cure for brown envelope journalism.

Meanwhile, let Ofwono Opondo continue to point his soot covered fingers at the culprits.

Rocktober!

2010-10-07T09:40:00.000-07:00

And so there’s been two BHHs without a recap from me. I am awful proud of that thank you very much. It demonstrates that I have shed even that little shred of dignity I had as a blogger. I mean if I cannot even make up a bloody BHH re-cap what is the world coming to? I suck.

While we are at confession, here is more. I had promised myself that since this is my special month, I would blog every day of the week for the whole month. I lied again. That is what happens when you make resolutions at the end of the year. You are too busy trying to keep track of the ones you have not lived up to since the beginning of the year you can hardly take time off to keep a simple one as writing about my crappy life every day.

Now quickly let me make a last confession. That while I was away from here, I fell in love with another hairy man. Facebook. I tell you I tried to stay away but you know how men can be. Always luring you with those big blue eyes and promises of bigger things. But now I am back. I can’t promise that I will stop seeing him or anything but I promise that if you take me back oh dear blogger, I will endeavor to er, nuh, I have no offers. Just take me back with no terms and no conditions

Done confessing. Be back soon. I miss you all.

Bee Etch Etch (Because there are not many other ways to write BHH) Recap: The Facebook edition

2010-06-28T23:13:00.000-07:00

I protested having to do this recap because what are people going to think of me; absconding from my blogging duties only to come and do a recap every several months only to disappear again and come back with a recap! Disgraceful! And so that is why I protested. But clearly I am not that good at protesting. Not good at many other things to be honest with you. Take the gym for example. Perfect place to meet nice sweaty guys, smelly sweaty guys, overzealous instructors in short shorts, and well, if you are up to it, perfect for toning up the thighs, butt and of course those flabby arms. So I sucked at that too. But I guess I came here to talk about what went down at BHH so I will delve right into it.

Do you remember how waaaaaaaaaaaay back Baz felt too good for BHH and we’d all gather and pay homage to his awesomeness and get on our knees and pray that one day he’d one day grace us low lives with an appearance? Well, now that BHH has faded, Baz can be found on street corners and at facebook campaigning for people to attend. Oh how the mighty have fallen.
This BHH was basically a facebook convention. Where previously people talked about the most recent posts etc, we were discussing facebook status messages, facebook groups, Golola Moses and whether or not it is ethical to ‘like’ your own status message. Prettysmilesolomonking says it is tacky to like your own status message, I agreed and two days later, Baz actually liked his own status.

That Mateo’s promotion of buy one get one free I am afraid is still going which is how come I ended up with two Martinis in salt coated glasses. Disgusting. Why would I go to a bar and pay for Oral Rehydration Salts? I also got a wee bit drunk, went to the loo to wash my face and ended up drinking the tap water. That’s what happens when local chics go hanging out.
That loud guy Spartakus was there. His pseudo dreadlocks also put in an appearance. He took one small glass of those obscenely named cocktails and got plastered. We threw him out of Mateo’s.

Anyway, I am not going to tell you what we all talked about etc. If you wanted to know you should have been there. But here is who turned up. Nevender’s cousin, a newbie called Muhumuza Mark who blogs as I-really-do-not-remember, Ivanmusokesweetheart, StreetSider who is amazingly nicer these days, Solomon King, Jny23, Ruth of dare devil and some other bold chic who said she’d not mind being banged everyday (Insert props here) and other chics who either were not bloggers, or are new bloggers or I did not get their names. Kale bye.

Gym thingies

2010-03-11T01:33:00.000-08:00

The other day the buttons on my shirt were fighting to explode off my chest, so I figured I had to do something about my ever expanding width. So i signed up to a gym. I know! A bit much right? why couldn't i just stop eating? here's what i found.

My Gym figured out a way to keep business going; there’s a Pastries shop right outside the gym. A friend of mine had this to say about that, Location, Location, Location.

Your 11 year old brother’s sneakers are not a good idea unless rotten feet are the new fad in town

That laughing should not be your standard reaction to when the instructor spreads your legs wide, whilst he is in a kneeling position between them

I should have shaved my armpits

I was going to shave that morning but then I remembered that I was going to wear a long sleeved shirt that day, so what’s the rush?

Trainer has bad breath

I suck at aerobics

My hips don’t lie

Going to the gym turns a previously humble person into a show off!. I mean here I am barely inside the gym doors and I am writing about it as if I am better than all those lazy un-fat people.

Hassan's joint

2009-12-08T07:20:00.000-08:00

Saturday Vision Page 29

Museveni update; Europeans and Chinese don’t die, his bathtub does not get cleaned up and will Bishops please stop consoling people?

2009-11-11T07:12:00.000-08:00

In a rare show of transparency, Museveni has s decided to open up about some of the things that rile him.

Now, we would have all appreciated it more if he had told us exactly how many more years he intends to rule for, or why he appointed Janet Minister, and does she really own Garden City? How much money does he have on his bank account etc, but I guess anything he decides to unleash, we will be more than happy to hear.

At the burial of V.P’s son (RIP) Museveni was given an opportunity to speak. In his own words, Museveni had never really met Brian the deceased so it is only fair that he talk about well, anyone but the deceased.

In his speech carried by the Red Pepper today, Museveni started by attacking the cause of Brian’s death as reckless over speeding drivers. Now as if we did not already know this, he told us that his own drivers over speed and will not listen to him anymore when he tells them to stop overspeeding. Nobody listens to the president anymore!

Over speeding taken care of, it was time to tell off the pretentious of society. Museveni went on to accuse Bishops of consoling mourners! The audacity! How dare they come to officiate at a funeral and come with words of encouragement and consolation? Who do they think they are?
Apparently the president does not like it when these Bishops say of somebody that has died that “God has called him or her. But I always wonder, why does He only call Africans and not Europeans or Chinese?”

According to him, this is how all bishops should proceed with funeral services
“Dorene’s dead. Not that God called her or anything, she just died. In an accident. Dust to dust…”

Museveni then summoned Gen. Gutti (the commandant at Kabamba where Brian was doing Cadre training) to explain why all the other co-travelers in the same car weren’t as affected (i.e. why did they not die). Would it have made him feel any better had the other occupants of the fateful vehicle perished as well?

Sevo also revealed that State House maids do not scrub the bathtub thoroughly and that is why the other day ‘God had almost called him’ when he slipped in the tub.
Anyway, just wanted to say I enjoyed reading the story that featured this interview. Find it on page 28 Red Pepper November 11, 2009.

for BHH absentees

2009-08-28T03:50:00.000-07:00

This BHH was boring.

I read all these tales of grandeur about the previous 2 BHHs and I was hoping to see for myself this time. That plus Heaven was really mean to me the last time I did not attend. There was a low turn up. Even those that came fashionably late were awfully early! By 7:30, the few of us who were there were trying desperately hard to come up with conversations that generated more than a ha ha, kyoka you!, yea I love your tattoo, I should have one done myself, except that I won’t sort of responses. It is tough being a BHH attending blogger I tell you. Especially when Cheri is not around or when Lucy has not promised us coverage!

Darlene is high on something I want in on. How else do you explain that she never tired of huggin, huggin, huggin, even the suspiciously smelling bloggers? Speaking of suspiciously smelling, Spartakus, not that I am saying that he is smelly or anything, it is just that suspicious and Spartakus do rhyme. Although to be honest I found it strange that you preferred to squat rather than sit where somebody could take a whiff of you, but stranger things happen. Now, why is Spartakus always marketing something? Project Fame, Poetry recitals, Viagra, NSSF, Quest Net, the presidency, you’re selling it, he will find you the buyer!

Chanel came up in the conversation mostly allegations about her Redpepper escapades but I refused to take part in that conversation coz you know, we used to be friends

Stretsyder is really violent. He greeted me with a whack on the nose, which I thought was so the god’s must be crazy but I said nothing of the sort to him lest now he goes for my neck or something. Having managed to successfully avoid him the whole evening he caught up with me just before I left and he challenged me to arm wrestling. How barbaric is this person?. You can take a boy(yes I said it) off the street…

Gug was there. Or maybe he was not the one. Coz later the gug impersonator left with a chic. Either it was genuinely gug and they were off looking for a shopping mall or it was Hyena come to infiltrate the bogging community. I can already see the headline.

“Hyena hooks bummy blogger and shafts her from behind Café Pap before horny waitress begged for her turn.” Or some such. I am no expert at Hyena.

Roll call: Edge of Innocence rumor has it he was hanging around me a lot, if that is true, I did not notice and can he do better next time? Dusk, brought her full blown madness with her in form of fantastic knee length high heel boots. Darlene the hugger. She has a Chinese tattoo. Sleek and wild who lo and behold is a GUY! I think we shared a moment. Guy, you confirm. Xiona. Nobody could pronounce her name, I doubt she is a blogger. Spartakus, he offered me tickets to project fame. i would like to formally turn them down here. StreetSyder whom I shall forgive for the nose whacking incident only because he has a way with words and I suspect he is always trying to show off at his blog. Solomon King who is the only living blogger that knows who The Emry’s is.Nevender's cousin. Nevender who tried to engage the Gug person in conversation which I thought was endearing.

“So gug, assuming you are gay, how is your boyfriend?”
“Which one, I have many. But they are all fine anyway”

BHH beepers included Dante, who came in to show off his very nice vest and Nathan who used to run a fantastic blog and went by the name Magoo, he did not act as if he was showing off anything really so I guess for him he had good intentions.

I would have loved to see some veterans; Baz, Kissyfur, Tumwi, B2B etc.

Beyonce is slutty and the Sanyu breakfast show

2009-08-04T23:41:00.000-07:00

Beyonce’s new (?) video ‘ego’ was showing on a music channel the other day when I started in surprise. Why, that thing looked just like ‘put a ring on it,’ why was she using the same video for two different songs? But she wasn’t. Just that in this video too, she was wearing one of those swimsuit costumy things that show off her bajingo and all those other things jay man should have patented when he put a ring on it.

Thing is, Beyonce, you do not have to go naked to be able to shoot music videos. It is getting annoying Bey. Also, please stop blaming your randiness on your alter ego. All I am saying Bey is that you do not have to sell your soul or thighs to make a good music video. Ok, so you are sexy, your curves are fantastically sculptured but get over it already! Although you do look good naked

I was surprised to wake up to Crystal on the Sanyu Breakfast show the other day. Turns out Melanie was not feeling well (they always say that). Anyway, so Crystal bless her, actually hosted a good show! Props to her for doing a mean press review actually breaking down and explaining the implications of the different newspaper items! I thought to myself, that’s just what we need! A brilliant person on morning radio and not just someone that will say ‘hmm’ or ‘oh yeah yeah’ or ‘am like yeah yeah yeah’ or ‘ha ha ha ah’ or’ moving swiftly on, or what else is new’ after they have read the day’s headline. You want to listen to a show that will inspire you, not people who make you feel smarter than you actually are. Kudos Crystal.

A friend of mine was joking (?) the other day that the only thing they say with conviction on the Sanyu breakfast show in when they are announcing the day’s special people.

Blame it on the weatherman

2009-07-15T03:16:00.000-07:00

The President wore his best ‘pained expression’ as he looked around at all the stick thin people around him. “My fellow Africans and indeed good citizens of Somalia; it is unfortunate that this famine is threatening to wipe all of you out. Unfortunate because back home in Uganda, the fields are flourishing…”

“No Mr. President” whispered his most trusted aide who was by now perspiring in shame. “We are actually in Teso. It is a district in Uganda mind you…” at which point the president amended his speech and cut and paste the word Teso where previously was Somalia.

It has been a while since Uganda got associated with severe famine. Sure biting poverty does still rage on but an actual calamity where famine was killing off people like an epidemic has been out of the news for a while.
The famine in Eastern Uganda, Teso to be exact, which has claimed about 35 lives, has taken many of us by surprise. Some of us even first heard of it during the momentary gasps for air as we took a break from stuffing our already bulging stomachs. It is sad and we should be ashamed.

But not as ashamed as Andrew Bageire, Minister of State for Agriculture, and Tarsis Kabwegere, Minister of Relief and Disaster Preparedness who tried to water down this fiasco; Bageire by saying that the people of Teso were paying this heavy price for being lazy spending most of their time drinking ajon (local brew) instead of growing and stockpiling food and Kabwegere by insisting on describing it as a “food shortage” but not famine. (source; Observer)

Bageire also implied that their (Itesot) otherwise avoidable situation was compounded by the unpredictable weather changes because his ministry last month released sh910m to the Teso region for planting materials. His boss the President picked up on this and tried to ride on this as well going a step further to blame the Entebbe meteorological centre. Apparently these guys did not predict the drought. So then he called the guy at the weather center

“Hello? Yea. So then you are the manager of the weather station? ”

"Yes. We expect light showers around the lake Victoria region with sunshine expected at the source of the Nile. The rest of the country will be relatively…"

“Listen to me. I am the president calling. How come you did not predict sunshine and drought in Teso? Now my ministers are here looking foolish…”

"Is that true Mister President? How weird! Only last year there were floods. I never thought that all that water would have dried out by now. “

All this nonsense has not gone down well with the area MPs especially the females who walked out of parliament in protest over the insensitivity of the likes of Bageire and Kabwegere (read men) in reacting to this disaster. Tears rolled down the cheeks of two female MPs Rose Akol [Bukedea] and Akiror Agnes Egunyu [Kumi] in what was a grieving demonstration of the emotional toll of the famine. (SOurce; Daily Monitor)

Some industrious person was seen collecting those tears to go and try to produce food and water from it.

Only last night at 8:00pm in a posh house in Kololo, a frustrated mother is trying to force feed beef to his son who just had a chicken sandwich for an evening snack with a gold spoon. In Teso, a starved rainmaker can be heard over the cries for food asking for five kilos of meat before he can summon the rains.

Note; the writer has done absolutely nothing towards contributing to the famine victims. There is a Help famine victims corner at Garden City that I intend to make good use of after beating myself up in shame.

BHH

2009-06-25T21:27:00.000-07:00

BHH kicked ass!

Get thee behind me Set Anne;

2009-06-10T21:39:00.000-07:00

It had taken all my resolve not to write this one but shit, I realized that my resolve was best suited in other more important tasks. So I have sent my resolve on an errand to go and figure out a way to not kill my boss.

Life throws you lemons, you make lemonade but they never quite tell you from whence to get the sugar and the water. Life throws a negative person at you, it just never equips you with the weapons to finish them off without being caught. And so, miss thing still lives. Why do I want to kill her? Because she is too damn negative she would suck the green out of any cactus plant. She has just about sucked the life out of me!

I shall start at the beginning. The first time I ever interacted with Miss Thing as we shall refer to my subject, please feel free to insert name of choice- Anyway, so Miss Thing and I first interacted at a social gathering, and within minutes had realized that her favorite subject was herself so I gave up trying to bring up my new cookery class. My boyfriend joined us shortly and in the next five words, she had managed to insult him. How does she do that? Now, it was all I could do not to flex my Mukiga muscles and throw a punch her way. But then I figured, she has known him longer maybe that is exactly the way they relate. I mean, what she had said might have in fact been true, so who was I to fight boyfie’s battles?
That was the day I decided I was going to try not be around Miss Thing. Not that life was going to sit around and let that happen!

Later, life saw to it that Miss Thing and I were thrown at the same place at the same time. That day, I was rocking my new silver bra feeling all rich and shit, what with me wearing minerals as support for my hooters. So she says to me;

“Hi, why are you wearing a silver bra?”
And I thought; slap her, bitch slap her, or slap the shit out of that stick she has on high up her butt?
Instead, I must have smiled and made a lame excuse about how gold prices had gone high so all I could afford was the lesser mineral.

Two weeks ago, I had the displeasure of meeting with watsherface Miss Thing. After sharing an unexpected hug, she says,
“HI. What is wrong with your hair? Don’t you have a comb?”

And there she was again. Why must she spoil it for everybody? Miss thing, everything is not always perfect because you say so. It is most definitely not your duty to point out the flaws in other people to their faces, especially if they are not your friends. You just do not have the right. Also, try find something positive to say even if the story is not featuring you. But if you must know Miss Thing, I have 7 combs, each a different shade and er, feel. I comb my hair once a day and it is not my fault it does not always stay in place.

I also should have bitch slapped you. Sassed you. Or rebuked you. Instead I smiled and said something in response to your frigging, annoying intrusive query. I am polite that way.

You are killing me Miss!

BHH, BHH snobbing, Bloggers snobbing BHH, Snobbery amongst bloggers, snobbery in general, one muzungu and a rasta

2009-05-28T21:55:00.000-07:00

That pretty much sums up what happened at BHH yesterday.You people, why are u all friggin snobbing BHH? Rebbecca mus be turning in her grave seeing all of you stuck up snobs snubbing her show. Whooooops! Somebody just whispered that Rebecca is indeed still very much alive and can I please stop writing people’s Orbits before doing my research. Well anyway, the thing is that the turn up at BHH gets appalling by the month.

The show’s supposed to start at 6pm but when I arrived at 8pm to make my grand entrance, I was shocked to find that I would be on the welcoming committee instead with Ivan, Daniel and good ol Erique looking every bit the mean person he truly is. Nuh, on the real tho, that angelic smile he wears makes you almost want to be friends with him.

Anyway, as is always the case when a newbie meets me, shock and awe emotions were emitted yesterday. According to Daniel, of streetsyder Antipop was not at all what he expected!

"I expected somebody beautiful”
At which point I said, huh? Wondering whether I had indeed heard correctly. Then he made amends thus
"You know, I thought she’d look like what she writes like. You know, tall, slender, hot, stylish…"
I was torn between burying my head in shame and well, burying my whole body in shame. He seemed like a nice fellow though

Ivan stole my money. Even Dante. But Dante gave it back, Ivan donated some of it to a street child which might have been a sweet gesture had he not robbed from me.

The Muzungu and Rev joined us later and the rest of my evening was spent chatting to and trying to understand what Detamble the muzungu in question was really saying. It is tough being an African I tell ya.

I hear Solomon King dropped by. And sleek. I would like to say they were fun and smart and etc but I lost my mojo for telling lies. Must be those honest scrap thingies going around.

Dusk was a pleasant sight when she waltzed in towering over me in her fancy heels and all making me feel short even when I know better. Was lovely seeing you girl.
What happened to the rest of y’all? Why are u guys constantly absconding from BHH? Anybody has any ideas on how we can get the numbers up? Prizes maybe?

So this Erique thing

2009-05-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

So anyway, after Erique and the internet babe had been chatting incessantly on the internets, he decided he could not wait to meet with her, and asked her out on a lunch date. On the day of the date, Erique dressed to impress and our Paparazzi was there to get the shots.

The place where Erique directed internet babe to find him for the lunch date.

Erique striking his best 50cent pose for our snappers in a bid to impress D no end

That is Erique looking nervous not quite sure what to say now he has met internet babe

Erique excusing himself to go before he pees his pants on realising that internet babe is actually hotter than in his wildest dreams. And he does have wild dreams. Behind him is our other snoop who has been masquerading as a receptionist at Erique's workplace for the duration of this assignment. She reported that she had never seen Erique as jittery as he has been lately.

Right after the romantic lunch that was made up of Kikomando and mineral water in Kaveera for kikumi. As you can see in that picture, he can't wait to wrap up the interview to go and relieve Kikomando logged intestines.

And this is internet babe

We wish Erique all the happiness in his impending nuptials. Over to you Erique

Erique hooks internet babe

2009-05-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

Erique hooks internet babe
News reaching our desk is that Erique (of rentedmess) has been cavorting with a hot internet chic only identified as D. The lady in question has even changed er Facebook Relationship status from "Its complicated" to "Over the moon, I have finally found somebody to marry me."

We hear an internet bun is already in the oven and that Erique is a mess over the usually joyful news. We wish their cyber marriage nothing but the best
Keep your eyes open for more juicy revelations
This news comes courtesy of Your friends at Tabloid.com

Museveni retains IGG Mwonda

2009-04-17T05:57:00.001-07:00

When Justice Faith Mwondha was growing up, she never dreamed that she would be IGG. Not even when she was filling those career guidance forms at A’level. Now that she thinks about it, she should never have circled those chemistry objective type questions using the pinky pinky ponky method. Maybe then she would have been an aging chemist holed up in a food factory somewhere being majorly ignored by the world.

Mwonda is coming under attack by The Parliamentary Appointments Committee for failing to appear before them for scrutiny. You see, Ms Mwonda snubbed a scheduled appearance before Parliaments Appointments Committee on April 1st 2009 and who can blame her? She had received those summons while watching her favorite show on MTV (Yea. That second salary she had been earning from the Justice sector had come in handy when she had wanted that DSTV dish). And then it hit her. April 1st? Isn’t that fools day? She thought as she consulted her calendar to find that indeed if she risked going to parliament, instead of a vetting committee, she would be accosted by Ashton Kutcher and his film Crew. That boy Ashton can be humorless sometimes!

If today’s Daily Monitor is to be believed then Mwondha can sleep well tonight assured that indeed she did the right thing to opt for a career of toying with people’s feelings than toying with the Bunsen banner. But you cannot always believe Monitor. It is responsible for Besigye’s unwavering hope.

Those who do not know what I am talking about, apparently the President has reappointed Mwondha IGG, even if his trusted MPs did not think it was the right thing to do. But what do they know? They have no vision. Of course this appointment does not go down well with the speaker Edward Ssekandi who had already started organizing her farewell party. Her and her staff. The invitation card to the IGG staff read;

You are cordially invited to your surprise farewell party…

“We are leaving? I didn’t know that! “

“That is the surprise…”

Sekandi is already on his way to Nkurumah Road to cancel the order for the cards.

This procedes events of the past month where the Parliamentary vetting committee, made up of NRM stooges reasoned that one of them a one Mwondha was not fit for the position of IGG I bet on grounds that she had been responsible for sending their other colleagues to jail. Mwondha in her term of office has seen three NRM ministers Jim Muwhezi, Mike Mukula and Dr. Alex Kamugisha dropped from the cabinet and prosecuted over corruption. Even if the most that came out of this was that they spent a few uncomfortable nights in jail.

With her dismissal, the ministers were already envisioning bigger salaries and inflated allowances, while the rest of them were not listening to this debate and were updating their Facebook status on their new Black Berries.

Not that Mwondha was in any way moved by these threats. The outspoken woman said she would not quit unless she was ordered to do so by President Museveni or God. Remind me to ask her some time whether God does really have that long white Beard. Are there really no shavers in heaven??

Meanwhile Mwondha’s deputy Raphael Baku has been sent on leave until further notice. Somebody had to pay the price.

PS. In this story, Daily Monitor Keeps quoting “Highly placed sources who did not want to be named coz of the sensitivity of the matter… “Seriously Monitor has got to find another way of calling its moles.

Use medicines sparingly

2009-04-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

That shocking headline in the Daily Monitor yesterday stopped Ms Amy Winehouse in her tracks as she was about to sniff a line of cocaine. She split it into 3 neat lines for breakfast, lunch and supper. She had been meaning to cut down anyway. Dr. House did not bother with the details of the story as he set about finding more cunning ways of sneaking more Vicodine out of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital without Cuddy noticing.

The truth is though, those two people could not be bothered because The director General of Health services in Uganda Dr. Sam Zaramba has urged Ugandans to use available medicines sparingly to save the country from a possible drug hitch. According to him, the Country has been experiencing a shortage of anti Tuberculosis drugs. This has forced Uganda to borrow drugs from neighboring Kenya . I can see how this one played out;

Hello Mr. Kamau? It is me Sam. How are you at this juncture and how is Nyambura? Glad to hear u guys finally managed to cross the River between. We were all holding our breaths for you…
Now, do you think you can get us some few panadols? You see Mama Musoke and the baby girl are with Malaria. And I suspect you have also heard about Museveni’s finger. So we could use all the Panadol you can lay your hands on. Scratch that. Just send over one dosage and we shall split it equally between the three just fine. Right. Right. Uh huh, uh huh, Yea, Mrs. Kibaki won’t let you? Okay then. Glad we caught up. Gotta go. I have Mr. Nyerere on the other line now…

Meanwhile mother of three in Sembabule whose eldest child is about to swallow medicine suddenly screams out; I warn you junior. Stop arguing with me. From today on it is 2x2, then at night we can always just put a damp cloth on your forehead to make up for the other 2 tabs. You see, we are trying to save the rest for when Joan gets ill, okay?

But let us get to the big picture here. Large men in their large jackets and briefcases are stealing money that is meant to buy enough drugs to sustain the country for a period of time, and yet they roam the streets in their expensive cars while we sit and watch helplessly.

Dr Zaramba says the shortage is due to delays within the Global Fund in Geneva to remit funds. And who can blame those guys in Geneva? Last year, then minister of health Jim Muwhezi, his deputy Mike Mukula and Alex Kamugisha were charged with embezzlement and misuse of up to $1.63 million(and counting) from a gift of $3.86 million to the Health Ministry from the Global Alliance for Vaccines and Immunization.

Teddy Ssezi Cheeye, the director of economic affairs at the Internal Security Organization, was recently arrested and charged with embezzlement of Shs120 million worth of Global Fund money. If a dose of anti-malarials is about Shs. 12,000-14,000, you do the maths.

While these four go to sleep in luxury security fenced mansions where mosquitoes and disease causing germs and viruses are electrocuted at the wire fence to ensure that they do not need drugs, children in the North get infected with Polio.

In another part of the world, Pink does not agree that pills are all that important anyway. See, according to her, they keep making her ill. When the drugs are finished good, I guess that’s the message Dr Sam will be putting out to the public. Pills are bad. Instead of making you better, they keep making you ill. You heard?

Pr. Sempa Vs Redpepper; The court case

2009-03-29T23:45:00.000-07:00

The facts

That Pr. Sempa took Redpepper to court advocating for court to ban publication of said newspaper citing pornographic content that entices people into crime and immorality when they read it.
That Pr. Sempa had two kids out of wedlock before he married his current wife
That Redpepper is an awesome newspaper which I read from cover to cover every day.

Here below are the court proceedings

Red Pepper Lawyers: Mr. Sempa, can you honestly say that when you read the Redpepper your morals are degenerated and in fact you are enticed into wrongdoing?
Pr. Sempa: Yes. It is especially responsible for degenerating morals amongst the youths.
Red Pepper: Tell us Mr. Sempa, is Redpepper the only newspaper you read?
Pr. Sempa: No. I also read The monitor, New vision, Bukkedde and The Observer
Redpepper lawyer whips out a copy of Monitor with headline “Ministers embezzle millions”
Tell us, does this headline make you want to steal money?
Pr. Sempa: No
Lawyer whips out Bukkedde with headline “Amusse”
Does this headline make you want to commit murder?
Pr Sempa: No
New vision here has a headline that says "Car theft on the rise"
Tell the court Pastor, does this make you want to steal Vehicles?
Pr Sempa: No
Lawyer shows him a copy of Redpepper that reads, “Sexpest invades Kampala”
Lawyer: so this makes you want to go out and have sex?
Pr Sempa: Yes

Oh, Okay. But tell us the Pastor; were you a virgin when you married your present wife? Did you not in fact father two children with two different women before marriage? Could it therefore be that You are the one with the problem Pastor?

And like that, Redpepper still lives among us

Bishops reject stolen money

2009-03-23T02:32:00.000-07:00

The problem of corruption in Uganda has gotten to a point where religious intervention was needed. After vigorous investigation, it was revealed that stolen money eventually ends up at church. As you can imagine, top religious leaders were not happy about this trend of events. So then they decided to meet and put an end to this thing they say they were greatly saddened by.

Archbishops Cyprian Kizito Lwanga (Catholics), Henry Luke Orombi (Protestants), and Metropolitan Jonah Lwanga (orthodox) met over tea and buns at Namirembe Guest House where Orombi showed off the view of the city and passed it off as his own. Not that they believed him or anything. Needless to say, Balaggade sekadde was not invited to this particular meet. Just before he popped the mouthwatering bun in his mouth, Cyprian made the sign of the cross, Orombi bowed his head to pray, and Metropolitan just looked on not quite sure what the fuss was all about. Just eat the damn buns already, he almost screamed.

“Right, we are gathered here today in the presence of …” started Cyprian
“What? Why? When? Whence? What if? Who…” interjected Orombi protesting only because, well, he had to.

Metropolitan kept quiet not wanting to say anything because he has always been ignored by these two anyway.

There was a lot of back and forth until they all eventually agreed that they should put out a statement saying they strongly condone Christians from giving stolen money as offertory. No word on whether they should stop stealing it however. Brethren have to eat.

Meanwhile their counterparts at the Pentecostal churches were in talks with major banks ordering for more ATMs to be fixed at their churches, and then later headed to JapaneseMotors.com to find out what Hammers were going for these days.

The first victim to fall prey to the new crackdown was Jim Muwhezi and none was as shocked as him to see two plain clothed Soldiers for Christ Mamba escorting him out of All saints Cathedral after depositing a large brown envelope of money into the collection bag.

In the interrogation room later, one of them said to a sweating Jim, “So Jimmy, a close source tells us that your money has the smell of ARV’s, Anti-malarials and TB drugs that never were…” No news on what will happen to the brown envelope. Sources say that the Clergy will pray, fast and bless the money and then it shall not smell stolen any more.

When news of this reached Rubaga Cathedral, Cyprian then made a quick telephone call to Don Corleone’s nephew at the Vatican and warned him of the crackdown saying that money given to him directly by the godfather was not acceptable, unless of course he sent it through MTN mobile money.

The Metropolitan instantly went back to dozing at his desk. Nobody ever gave offertory at his church anymore.

You are not what you eat

2009-03-20T00:10:00.000-07:00

...You re what you leave the ATM booth smelling of....

Moral of this one is; Be careful who are following in line at the ATM. Sniff them first for hecksake!

Who shall tell the president?

2009-03-18T06:23:00.001-07:00

The president was in a panic this morning and quickly sent for his medical team to put his mind at ease. You see, he had had a very bad premonition that a certain newspaper(I use that word ever so sparingly in this case) had claimed that he was sick and dying as evidenced by his sausage finger. Or he had dreamt it. He could not be quite sure. Although, it was not a premonition really. It is just that the dear president had opened his eyes just in time to catch the press guy swapping today’s front page of Redpepper with yesterday’s copy. A priest caught bonking a married wife was a safer bet than “Museveni is Sick.” What religious leaders got up to was not top of the agenda today, unless of course it was Patience. So anyway, he sent for his medical team, who ran tests on his finger and changed his band aid and pronounced him good to go for another 20 years. Or so.

I read the story and thought again that journalists must be the luckiest bunch of people. They write stories, and early morning, in the safety of their swinging chairs pull out their binoculars and scan the impact of their foray. From their headquarters in Namanve, Redpepper mounted their chairs at the rooftop and proceeded to see how everybody was headed up to statehouse to pay their condolences. They were shocked that only Janet had rushed up to state house from her station In Gulu to pay her respects. She was also turned away at the gate and told that the president had a case of the manicure gone wrong, nothing a band aid would not fix. Like that, she turned around and went back to playing Messiah in Karamoja.

Disappointed that their headline did not cause mass impact, Redpepper vultures went back to Seeta bar and Inn, where they ordered for the cheapest gin and proceeded to coin the next day’s story. And headline.

Meanwhile in state house, the president went about his duties, and other political cartoonists scratched their heads trying to figure out how to spin the whole thing. After piles and piles of drafts and baskets full of waste paper, Ras decided to go back to drawing dogs, cows, goats, and ants with massive balls.

I post today coz even I have become embarrassed by the image I am met with when I open this here page

Nominate a blogger to attend a G20Voice Project. Go here for details; http://www.awid.org/eng/Women-in-Action/Calls-for-Participation2/Call-for-Nominations-Bloggerst-at-the-G20!

open at your own peril

2009-03-10T03:49:00.000-07:00

I have never seen any under 18's here at this blog so i will go ahead and post this. Please note, that this is not meant to be offensive in any way, it is just meant to be funny.Me, i laughed and i thought i'd share. Have a laugh or burst. Nobody gimme any of that pompous, righteous, prudent BS.

Bye y'all

on the raod

2009-03-02T21:03:00.000-08:00

I have had the most unproductive day of my adult life. We (these guys that are blessed to be sharing an office with me and I) only just recently moved and today was my first day at the new office. There is no internet. The place reeks of fresh paint. The food is crappy. It is mighty cold. And it is in the middle of nowhere. Erique threatened that if I did not come up with a post last week he would er, post something mean about me. I dared him to, and he failed to act on his threat. Chicken!

Speaking of last week, Friday evening on my way home, I witnessed an accident. At the Nakawa stage. It sort of messed up my rather nice evening. Not in the sense that it was an inconvenience but in the sense that it was a rather disturbing scenario. I was seated in the taxi waiting for it to fill up when I heard the most terrifying scream I ever heard. Just one scream. And silence. Then commotion. A man was down, possibly dead. A taxi speeding from Kireka direction had just ended a man’s life and sped off into the night. If you are familiar with the Nakawa stage, you will know that that is a high traffic area. Both human and motor traffic, so one has no business driving over 10km/h on that road, especially not in the evening frenzy.

Two strange things happened.

1. That as fate would have it, a police patrol car was driving in the opposite direction at that very instant. How oft does that happen?
2. That the patrol car just turned round and chased after the killer taxi, never once stopping to dispatch at least one officer to attend to the accident victim.
3. There was a third. That instead of helping the guy, people just started ransacking the victim’s pockets for loot.
4. I just watched on from the safety of the back seat in the taxi, door tightly shut, clutching my purse ever so tightly, still trying to take it all in.

There have been countless senseless road accidents like those that have claimed even more lives. Now, jiggers will kill two people and it will be all the newspapers are talking about yet ignoring road accident death stats of over a hundred people that die in such road accidents per month(silverbow, try insert the accurate stats here). Have accidents become so common that we have grown to be so immune to them like that? As if when another death occurs on the road, airbags pop up in our heads that protect us from the trauma and reality of it all. Somewhere, an air headed politician sits in the comfort of his air conditioned land cruiser as it glides along the smooth tarmac of Kololo trying to coin the most amazing theory on what causes Road accidents. And in a flash it hits him. Mini-skirts!

RIP stranger.

It is cuss free week this week Erique.

Princess deleted her blog?

Move B****, Get out the way!

2009-02-26T01:40:00.001-08:00

I have started and not completed over 4 posts in the last two weeks since I last posted but was never able to complete them coz my job could not allow me the time. I have recently come to the conclusion that I hate my job. And not only because I cannot read/write blogs any more. I deliberately missed this particular course on campus because I did not want to get bogged down with eternal butt kissing, but here I am at it. You might say that I sold my soul.

Of course I have been reading all your blogs, but not commenting as much except where it was absolutely impossible for me not to say anything!

I have of course gone through things during this whole time. I still can’t ride a bicycle but I can assure you that when it comes to eating raw pork at Kyadondo, I find that I excel greatly. Seeing as I do not excel at many other things, I am really happy with that achievement. No. I already have enough gold stars so don’t stress. And other things have gone on since last I posted. A guy I know went and gave his wife a ministerial post. No really. The president did. I keep thinking what his last thought was just before he slotted Janet’s name on the dotted line. God I hope Ugandan’s do not see this as nepotism. Of’ course not. ‘MY’ people would never think evil thoughts like those about me. No. by now Ugandans are so used to this sort of thing and nothing I do can surprise them anymore. In fact, I do not expect anybody to raise dust about this appointment at all. Ugandans dig me. And with that last thought, he flicked his parker pen and wrote;

State minister in charge of Karamoja; Sweetheart.

I have been wondering how he got to this conclusion and I figure, it could have gone one of these three ways. Take your pick.

Conversations with the Mistress

Darling, we have talked about this before, but I do not see you doing anything about it. When will she get out of the way? Are you even ever going to leave her? Now, now my love, do not stress your beautiful behind over it. I have a few plans in my mind. Really? Does that mean you are going to do a Kiyingyi on her? No. not that darling. But this one is even cooler. Entwining his fingers in hers, he looks at her gently and pronounces; I know, how about, I ship her off to a land far away, where network is poor, so she won’t be calling me incessantly. Then my darling you can move in here with me Monday to Friday.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and buried his head in the pillow right where it was embroidered Love Nest Motel and immediately went to sleep, content in the knowledge that he had given her a pleasant enough answer.

The one about Valentines’ day

Janet was lying around lazily drying her freshly painted toe nails imagining what hubby dearest had gotten her for Valentine’s Day never imagining that in their thirty something years of marriage he would forget just how important this day was to her. He had been hinting lately how much unattractive her underwear was getting by the day so she surely expected a gift in form of lingerie. She could not wait to try it on for him. When he came to bed at 3 that nite, he did not even bother to say anything to her, even if her shallow breathing suggested that she was still awake. The next day at breakfast, realizing that he was in trouble, and not willing to get into any confrontation, he told her that last night was a deliberate move to get her all worked up but he had a surprise for her that would sure make up for everything. And on Tuesday Feb 17th, she learned of it in her favorite tabloid. She found out just how long she would have to travel to unveil her belated Valentine ’s Day gift and was not amused. Lingerie would have done just fine.

Let’s bury the hatchet?

Yea so all those reports in the press that I was against you standing for that parliamentary post in Ruhama? Those were utterly wrong.. I have never wanted anything more in my life than for you to become an MP. I swear. I would have done anything. Yes of’ course including giving up my presidency if it meant you becoming MP. No. really. I would totally forget about any more bisanjas if you wanted me to. Your happiness is all that matters to me right now and just to prove how much I am into you furthering your political ambitions, here is a real political post. Go see if Karamoja can catch up with the rest of us.

why i should never be allowed to write press releases

2009-02-06T05:26:00.000-08:00

Panic gripped a monitor journalist yesterday morning as he rushed to work to find out whether he was still with job. This all stemmed from a press release by the Bank of Uganda in which the people’s bank quoted one of his editorials that was the cause of wide spread panic amongst the banking elite causing them to withdraw over a billion shillings from a one Barclays Bank. Classic case of tables turned if you ask me. You see, normally journalists write such alarming stories and sit back and watch everybody else squirm, headed in the other direction. But yesterday, said Monitor journalist was the only one running in the opposite direction, everybody else queuing up at the bank having managed to beat the morning traffic. That was until they heard the announcements by Bank of Uganda on Radio assuring them that Barclays bank was still solvent at which point they all ran back home to consult with their kids what that word meant. The kids of course were not very amused because MTV cribs was just showing Lil Wayne’s joint.

Now if Bank of Uganda were not lying bastards, here is the statement they would have sent out to the public;

Yes Barclays bank is under investigation for incompetence and a host of other things most of which we shall not mention here. You are therefore advised to go and draw out your money. No. Not so soon of course. See, it would not be wise to advise you to draw all your money now, what with Barclays owing us money and all now would it? So wait home a little longer until Barclays bank sorts out its loan to Central Bank, we shall let you know when it is really time to worry. No really. We would never lie to you if we knew a bank was closing. What was that you asked? Greenland and co-operative bank? Technically, we did not lie about those ones closing down. We just did not say anything to you. Besides, that was in the past. Forgive and forget mean anything to you?

We are not lying dogs like most of you would have us believe. Just because we have not yet let you all know by way of a press release that Stanchart has fired all its marketing team because they cannot afford to pay them does not mean that they are in any kind of financial trouble. What was that? Barclays bank also fired its loans marketing team? Yea. I knew that, but surely that is not indicative of any sort of financial trouble? What do you take us or? It is true Barclays Bank bought that bank that had been going under and have since failed to impress much but surely if everybody was judged by the number of times they have failed to impress, how many of the guys would still be standing tall?

Indeed it is really unfortunate that a one Dorene deposited most of her hard earned salary on her Barclays account on Monday and it has not yet been credited to her account. What can we say? Shit happens!

Now, allow me to hand the floor over to the CEO Barclays Bank who has something important to say; “On behalf of Barclays Bank and all those who believe without seeing, shut up already about Barclays. Because at Barclays, we only close on Weekends and public holidays, but one day I am sure, we shall close and never open. Ever

signed;
Guv'nor, Bank of Uganda.

BHH Impromptus Re-captus

2009-01-15T21:41:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the impromptu bhh which happens any time there is a major occasion. Yesterday we came to pay homage to the founding father or mother of BHH. This means that without her, we would have never had those monthly gatherings at Mateos where we all assemble and share a few sodas amongst ourselves in the hope that we do not get thrown out of the commercial bar. You see, she was the only one amongst Ugandan bloggers that thought it would be a good idea if we met every so often to worship the ground on which either one of us walks if you are to take S.A.G.E very seriously. As for me, I go to Bhh because that is the only social life I have! Anyway, without further ado, I bring you the re-cap, even if really I was not there long enough to qualify for this kind of job.

By the time I got there, most bloggers had already assembled which meant then that I had the odious task of going around the table issuing hugs and handshakes for the very fortunate ones, because I have got to tell you, it had been a long day and my deodorant is not known to move mountains. So I was still there greeting and hollering when my uncle spotted me from the other side of the velvet line. I went over to greet him and proceeded to explain to him why I was hanging with so many people. I had to lie to him that we are a group of people that publish newspapers on the internet. What was I going to say? That really we are just a bunch of wannabes that post pictures of thongs, breasts and bare torsos on our blogs? Pray tell, how was I going to explain to him what a blog was? He asked whether I was making good money via the online newspaper thing, I said no, coz I knew next he was going to tell me that Grandpa needed another set of walking sticks. Enough about me; the re-cap.

Nevender did manage to make it this time around, even though he sat right behind 27th where nobody could see him, what with Rev’s dreads blocking everything in sight for 20 miles or so. So Nev asked why I had not been replying his e-mails and I had no answer. You see, I did promise that we would each read a Psalm a day and then share with each other what we'd gotten out of it via mail, but truth be told, I read the first psalm and the next time I opened the bible, it took me straight to proverbs and I have never turned back since.

Speaking of bible books, Nevender was seated right next to one of my dearest friends neatsilverbow and when I walked in on them, they were engrossed in conversation. I later asked silverbow whether it was the Psalms they were discussing and she said “no, but soon we shall get to songs of songs.” By the way, she is leaving for Kenya today, hope she comes back with nice tales for us all. And do be a dear and say hello to eleet

Ivan’s graduating next weekend. Just before he came for BHH, he’d been buying a graduation gown. When I met him on the way to Mateos, he was wearing said gown intent on shocking and awing bloggers. I begged him to please take the gown off people were going to think he was insane and only then did he oblige. Honest.

The usual suspects were there. Darlene and Solomon King whom I did not get round to interacting with much because I had to leave early. Which was a shame really because they were the only ones that seemed to genuinely want me to stay longer. B2B, the man that has defied all the odds of maledom was there also and he asked me to leave a killa comment at his current post on which he roasts Cheri Akiki. So I went over to his comments and wrote; Killer. I would never dare take part in anything that does not portray Cheri in good light. I am deathly terrified of her. So please Akiki, just know I am not taking part in that thing where everybody has you against the wall.

Speaking of against the wall, Chanel in her grand entrance style did pin me up against a chair and started dry banging me from behind. I know. Took me by surprise too. I never pegged her for the whole PDA thing. I have got two words for you sista; HO!

The bazungu aka Detamble and Jackfruity the woman of the hour seemed to gel instantly. It must have been the accents. Finally Detamble found somebody that could understand her without having to repeat herself a million times. Rev did seem intent on breaking up that cozy thing they had going and he could be seen pitching into the conversation at the top of his voice. He also made it a point to discuss with me my most recent post in detail which of course was embarrassing for me. If I had known we were going to discuss each other’s most recent posts surely I would have made much of an effort to cram some of the lines in his post!

Jny23ug was there with his usual wild tales which I shall not disclose on this blog at this time.

Nevender came over with a friend who told me his name was Simon. “Simon peter?” I enthused. No he said not getting the joke. Obviously he does not read Erique’s blog. I did ask him also if he had a blog and he said no, as if I had insulted him so I left it at that. I think he was just a well wisher, or a spy. Another well wisher called Linda made up an appearance and spent the entire evening chatting with Rev, I do not know about what.

Edsla was there and he and chanel I think made good use of the seating arrangement to talk about I imagine Juliet or how Mr. Bigg was not amused that Eddsla once asked Chanel whether he could spend the weekend with her at a hotel seeing as I had turned down the offer
Then I left.

On another note, you seriously have to check out beeeme. She has shockingly delicious candid tales. Not prescribed for you Nev, Cheri the virgin and any under 21s.

The cleaner and why you should never steal a phone battery

2009-01-14T01:24:00.000-08:00

I am not a thief. My sister knows that about me. So yesterday when I stole somebody’s battery, it caught even me by surprise. Nuh, not really. I was there, so obviously I could not have been surprised. But this story did not begin yesterday. Sometime last year, there is this guy at work whose phone could not charge. So I graciously agreed that every time he ran out of battery, which was often by the way, I would switch batteries with him so that I could charge using my phone. That arrangement worked soo well until the weekend when we opted to spend time with our families (he with his family, me with the TV). So then he decided that enough was enough he was gonna buy another phone.

He sold the old phone-with MY battery in it- and got a brand new version of the old phone. So therein lay the problem. Sure our batteries were the same make but his battery was sooo weak I found I had to charge my phone often sometimes up to twice in one day. I told workmate about this and he promised to sort me out.

Now fast forward to yesterday. Workmate left his phone lying around so I seized the opportunity and went for his battery. In the middle of switching, he walked into the office, so I dived into another guy’s office and once the switch was made, I returned his phone. Whoosh! That was close. I had gotten away with it. In fact I had gotten away with it soo good, he did not connect the dots when 5 minutes later he asked to use my charger when only moments before his phone battery was full. So today morning, I am seated minding my own business which usually means that I am either chatting or chatting when he poses this question;

Workmate (not looking amused); Antipop, how would you feel if somebody read your sms
Antipop (taking the bait); Why, I would be incensed of’course
Workmate (pleased with his ensnaring antics); So how come you read my sms yesterday?
Antipop, yesterday heist forgotten; Huh? What are you talking about?
Workmate: Yes. Yesterday in the morning. You went away with my phone, read my sms and came back giggling. Don’t think I never saw you return my phone stealthily. Why did you read my messages? Why? So that you can unearth my secrets and publish them in the papers?

That tirade went on and on, so to put a stop to it, I owned up to stealing his battery instead. He did not believe me. And so the rant continued. moral of this one, when you steal phone batteries, never, ever giggle.

And now the cleaner;
Our office cleaner guy is very nice. He always makes us all tea in the morning. The perfect help if you like. So anyway, the drainage for the sink in the bathroom is broken, when one washes their hands, the water just leaks on down to the floor. So Wasswa, he is bright, put a bucket underneath the sink to hold the water. Now on two occasions when the bucket is full good, he has proceeded to empty the contents back into the sink….

Introducing; beeeme.wordpress.com. I find that she writes brilliantly.

Most memorable posts continued

2009-01-07T21:23:00.000-08:00

Previously on this blog, i was suckin up to people. This is to let you aoll know that i am not yet done. here is presenting to you some more bloggers. Note, this is not to say that these are your best pieces of work. they are just the ones that have stuck with me.

I have run out of adjectives to describe talented and extremely gifted writers. So I shall just introduce you to tumwijuke, fondly known as tumwi. If ever there was blogger royalty, she would be queen, Baz king, leaving the rest of us openly gazing in unconcealed envy. Except Enrique. He would be next in line for the throne. Nuh. Just kidding. All of you are talented just the same so I am going to go on record as saying blogville is like Switzerland! There is no president. You all rule. Back to tumwi who can write and write good. To try and explain how fantastic she is with words (when she wants to be) is an injustice. So y’all go back and try to enjoy this as much as I did. And I don’t even like poetry.

Nobody likes a smart ass. Introducing to you this obnoxious, unapologetic , sweet faced smart ass. I call him Erique, the baby faced assassin. I swear one day I want to kill him, the next day I try to boycott his blog for a senseless hilarious post he has written but then minutes later I find myself clicking Go and into his world I come again. This newbie is hilarious funny and and and. He says all the things you have thought secretly but never dared to utter. I remember when I first met him, how much I urged him to join the blogger community. If I had known he would come in and overshadow the rest of us, maybe I would have not been so generous with extending my invite. Whatever you do, you must absolutely read his blog in this lifetime. But read especially, his advice on love

One woman that does not mince her words is Miss Chanel here. She says it like it is and is not afraid to rubbish anybody at their own blogs. Jesus. I am almost terrified of her. She also hosts very nice house parties even tho she makes me do all the work while she takes all the glory. Of course she also steals from me, but this post is not about spoiling her good name. She has a guest blogger called Mr. Bigg. I wonder if it is only just her blog he visits. Anybody remember how she rubbished men’s bu small things thus; I don’t smoke cigarettes?

Joulletv- I keep saying she chose the wrong profession; law. She writes like how many journalists should be writing like…but whatever. I will not say which of hers was my favorite post. To what end? Her blog is blocked to all else. An injustice if I ever saw one. Your posts have made for some great reading

Carlo. No. it was not the boobs post! You can start shooting me now if you want, but really I was not enthralled by pictures of girls baring protruding growths. What am I saying? I guess I am just jealous my breasts were not among the pics that were drooled upon. Anyway, I liked the originality and creativity behind this post. Kinda took me back to my roots. For that, I will name her most creative blogger of the year.

Dusk aka spice aka mindblowing something something. She is computer illiterate. Once her computer asked her to delete her blog and she pressed 'yes.' And as computer is wont to do, it asked her again. "Are you sure Dusk? Are you absolutely certain? without a doubt you want to delete the blog? what are you crazy? you mean you really want to proceed with this insanity?" and again she said yes. Then she came complaining. but she is one candid feisty young lady I must say. Has anybody read her most recent toe curling post? Read it. But then read this one also…

Xenafleur. I have met her. She is as strange as her blog name. Her tale of her taxi romance was funny. Pity she did not like it. Me, i laughed so hard.

Solomon King has more alter egos than he knows what to do with. Okay fine so he utilizes them all but I find it very confusing. Thanks for bringing us bloggers under the one blogspirit thing. You have made blogging much easier for most people. Except me who is still set in the old fashioned way of finding the most recently updated blogs by typing in all of the blog URLs I have off head. It works too. Thing is I cannot use technology. Solomon King is also just only human. Read about surviving trying times here.

Then there is Solomon's friend, the faceless Emry’s who I am dying to meet. I hear he is a weak dude! Boys, i think you should stop selling yourselves short. In the wise words of Swaibu, "temwenyoma!". Mark my words Emrys, i shall find you! in his spare time, he writes love letters.

Intelligentsia used to run a good and funny blog until he launched a website. Needless to say, his blog has been starved of any real entertaining posts for a while now, but thankfully, he started off the New Year with comeback posts. By the way he is Kenyan and very possibly eats Ugali aka posho with fried meat, and so he does not choke, he washes it down with Senator. My most memorable post of his has got to be the one where he calls on all bloggers to send pics of their desktops. He posted the results someplace on his website I think.

Darlene. How can we ever show how grateful we are for ensuring that happy hour runs ever so smooth and on schedule? Your picture taking skills are awesome. More awesome is some of the flak you might take from said pictures. Here, see for yourselves. Also, remember how she had this wild tale about snoozing?

He is fresh out of school, fresh in to blogging. His name is Nevender and you dare not call him Neverender Chanel. He is miffed by such carelessness. His posts have brought what I shall call spiritual equilibrium amongst us. A nice balance from Rev’s chants and gug’s well, self proclaimed atheism. Anyway, once he wrote about how sex before marriage was like pizza! I never heard anything truer. I love pizza.

Speaking of gug, he once said he does not care whether we read his posts, so I guess he won’t care that I will considerately not mention his posts except to say that he takes fight for the rights of gays very seriously and he has my support. I told you guys, this post is a major kiss butt job.

Three words. Party party party. Is how one can only describe Eddsla. And his posts. And who can forget how he tried and succeeded I must add at getting us all to feel sorry for him coz his girlfriend was well, moving on? He had Chanel and whatshisname the mushy guy throw a drink up thingy in his honor. Speaking of Chanel, who can forget how Mr. Bigg warned Eddsla thus; hands off chanel, she is a taken woman. Drama follows this guy and we love to read about it. this one time, he responded to a stray text and here are the results

Mylz Rwamiti; an example of a blog I should never have read.

To be continued

the one about facebook

2009-01-06T00:29:00.000-08:00

I hate facebook
I despise it
Especially(or only) because really I am a computer illiterate who would not know the first thing to do with a social networking site. So to hide my secret this, I pretend like Facebook is beneath me. I call facebookers such names as juvenile dimwits, spit on them with unconcealed distaste and then walk away and go cry my eyes out from shame and envy.

Now because I swore to all of my friends that I would never be caught in the dead hanging with the idle lot (I hear even Harry Sagara is on facebook) I did the next best brave thing and opened a facebook account with an alias. You understand, I had a reputation to protect. Tamara Agaba was henceforth born on facebook. Tamara, because at the time that brilliant idea hit me I was watching big brother and the field presenter from I do not remember where was called Tamara. And she was tall. Agaba because I have a feeling in my past life, I might have been called Agaba.

By the way, y’all missed my kwanjula last nite. Yeah. I dreamt that I had a kwanjula. The groom wore a brown suit.

But back to facebook. I went about the process of inviting friends and my friends’ friends and by the end of that exercise, I had all of 9 contacts. I know. My friends are not very much loved I am afraid. I must say I found facebook rather boring. Apart from changing my what do they call it that thing that begins with Tamara is… it was an absolute bore. But secure in the knowledge that my undercover moves had not been found out, I plied on. But one day, this conversation took place in the taxi between my friend and I;

Antipop (says something true to friend)
Antipop friend(not looking very convinced)
Antipop: Honest. Would I ever lie to you?
Antipop friend: I don’t know, Tamara, would you?

Re-cap

2009-01-04T21:43:00.000-08:00

As you all probably already know, my year already began. And I have no resolutions. Especially coz I cannot work under pressure. That means you and you should stop heaping all that pressure on me to post, post, post. I meant to post this one last year, but I figured this would be the best time to do it. No better time to suck up to people than at the beginning of the year. Here is me ranking my favorite posts of each of you from last year. Or of years past. In no particular order.

Ivan the queen of puns is a talented writer. When I can make the time to read his long posts, I do have enormous fun. My favorite post of his is when he narrated his harrowing experience with a serial killer. It was a killer read if I must say. did y’all see the pun right there? i learn fast.

Rev, has also some weird looooooooooooooooong posts. I mean he puts the lo in long, the de in detailed, the i.n.g on words. Needless to say, do I rarely read his brilliant writing to the end, which I must add is such a waste seeing as he is a very talented philosopher and let’s face it, idealist. But the day he told the story of how his mom had rescues and abandoned baby, I fell in love. With the tale.

And this brings me to Detamble of course. I knew her so much better when she was in Australia. Now that she is here, she has become quite a stranger. Whatever it is she is doing must keep her mighty occupied! Geddit? Occupied, ha ha! Anyway, she had this whole beautiful write up about her country/continent. The land of the free she called it. Weird, I always thought Australia was the land of thieves. That piece captured the very essence of good writing.

Princess. This one was born with a pen in her hands. If I ever saw beautiful writing, I saw it at her page. She is very crafty with words this one. it is almost impossible to pick. My most memorable tale of hers was the one about a boy, girl and a motel. Such flow. Such eloquence. Such fluency. Such fun.

Speaking of fun, Baz is my Ugandan John O’Farrell. John O’farell is only like my favorite writer ever. Damn! I can read his stuff over and over and still laugh as hard! And that is exactly how Baz makes me feel. It is awful hard to pick from which of his is my most memorable, but I am going to go ahead and say it is the one where he gave 24(the series) a whole different spin. I laughed so hard, i farted. True story. anyway, i was so excited i spun in my chair eager to share with...

Phantom who told me to get a life he had read that post about a year before. Still I did not let him take my shine. Come to think of it, that was not the first time he was raining on my parade. this one time while doing a random search about a random thing i do not remember on google, I found a totally random blogpost about Ugandan writers . So I show him said post and guess what? He was the author of said post! I will go ahead and nominate bite me as my most memorable from his lot. and not only because it has a tempting title.

Then there is Phoebe. She is weird. So is what she writes about, and how she writes it. But she is damn good at what she does. I guess that is how come she got a scholarship to go to Italy to study. I have always wondered. Read this letter to her dad.

And who can forget Tandra’s random ramblings? and those comments she leaves lying around? she is not one to throw words generously around. if she leaves more than two words in your comment section, dude, you will be real blessed. Read about her yoga class esxcapades.

Not only does this guy have strange post titles, he does this thing where he adds 'ness' to all words large and small. Back to basics has made for some nice entertainment over the years. He tackles issues that most other boys are not willing to get into. He asks and answers questions about size, romance and whatever other mushy stuff other real guys are afraid of tackling, like whether or not it is okay for boys to cry at the sight of breasts. And the good news is, it does not make him less macho. This is a tale of how he almost made a girl fall preggers by just looking at her. if you are one to believe that sort of thing.

You cant mention him without mentioning the missus of course whose blog is 'if he can so can I' but for now, she has not been able to keep up with his zeal. This tale of when a certain blogger gave her a fake phone number was hilarious. I mean it is okay for a chic to give a guy the wrong phone number, but chic on chic action? Now that is new.

When i started out, i thought this was going to be easy! Jesus! there is so many of you. so i am going to have to do this thing in three segments. For those of you that did not make this list, that does not mean that i love you any less. so please chanel, dry your tears.

so i say, have a nice day

indiscriminate only because i do not want to say random

2008-12-08T06:06:00.000-08:00

So this place my new work place, it has taught me this one thing. That nobody is safe from office gossip. You see, every time somebody goes out the door, we (yes, me inclusive) go ahead and tear them to shreds. So for a while I was enjoying the whole trashing people behind their backs, until I realized that I might (very likely) be a subject of it as well. Anyway, that has not stopped me gossiping though. There is a certain thrill you get from hearing all those mean things said about your workmates! Hopefully they enjoy my session as much as I enjoy theirs.

There’s this guy I know that does not like sports. Mary does not even watch soccer. So as a concerned supporter of the Uganda Cranes I asked him this all important question. “Why not?” So he says that as a child he had a traumatic experience with the football. You see, when he was in primary three (note: that is the age when every boy is asking their parents to get them a leather ball at Christmas), he attempted to join his friends in a game of soccer. When the ball came hurtling towards him, Mary shielded himself with his hands. Ball connects with the hands; boy comes off the pitch screaming black and blue. Apparently, “the football hurt my hands.” He probably also broke is fingernails in the process. That little girl is now a thirty something nerdy computer something something. Mary can be reached here.

Anyway, I leave you with this;
This guy buys sunglasses earlier in the day. Bed time draws close and just before he slips into the covers, slips the glasses on. So somebody asks, “But why are you wearing sunglasses to bed?” Guy answers, “Why, what if I dream that I am at the beach?”

Her uncle. he loved her. he used her. and never said sorry

2008-12-03T04:15:00.000-08:00

Her uncle Kennedy was awesome. Like that time on New year’s day when he took her out to the beach and bought her beer; enough beer to knock her out cold even if she was only 15. Uncle Kennedy was super cool; he even used to tell her stories about his girlfriends, especially those that were good in bed. He even encouraged her to talk about her sex life, encouraged her to own up to the fact that she was not a virgin any more. Even if she was only 15. And she was still a virgin. Uncle made her feel bad every time she said she was a virgin. He said she was lying. No way could she still be a virgin. He had after all once been her age and knew what kind of mischief girls and boys that age got up to. She loved her uncle Kennedy. He was her best friend. They did not have secrets from each other.

She was never an obedient child Karen. Her mother knew this about her. So when Karen told her mother that school was breaking off a week later than was scheduled, her mother had gone ahead and called the dean to confirm. She was lying again to the dismay of her mother. What was getting into this child? No matter how much she had tried to discipline her, Karen had remained an unapologetic insolent. She was ordered to go back home on the day school broke off or she would have to answer to her mother. But you see, Karen had already made plans with her friends to go dancing the whole week long and she was not about to cancel. What would she tell her friends? That mummy had refused her to go? Never. Her friends were to never find out that she was anything but the hardcore girl who snuck cigarettes and waragi over the school fence and mixed it with her quencher.

The first day after school, Karen and her friends had shacked up in some seedy room her friend’s boyfriend had found them. That night, they’d gone to the disco really early where she had met and danced with a guy till morning. One week later, said guy broke her virginity. She was 16. A week after that at the bus stop, after swearing undying love to her, he waved her off to a fate unknown to her. She had had a good two weeks of fun, but now she could not go back home. With tears streaming down her eyes, some for the new boyfriend she would not see again in a long while and the other tears for the sense of foreboding that was fast engulfing her. She was not ready to face her mother.

Like an epiphany, it hit her half way through the odious bus ride. Uncle Kennedy. Surely he would take her in? He did. Into his one room apartment with the one bed they would inevitably have to share. They talked all night that first night and every night after that for a week. She did not question him when before they drifted off, he took her in his arms in an embrace. Uncle was just trying to keep her warm, is what she kept telling herself, even if deep down she knew better. Then he started to roam his hands over her body, and fondle her breasts and urging her to turn around and kiss him. Humiliated disgusted and disgraced, she had stormed out of the bed. “That is disgusting.” she had answered to her uncle’s query. Insulted and hurt, Uncle Kennedy has demanded to know why that was. After everything he had done for her, taking her in when she had no place to go, why was she treating him that way?

She did not understand why uncle was being this way. He was her uncle for golly’s sake. And not only that, everybody knew that he was HIV positive. He looked it too. He was awful skinny and his fast thinning hair had turned an ugly brown. Did he want to give it to her too? And now why was he angry with her? Could she not understand that what he was doing to her was wrong? She slept on the couch that night. Uncle Kennedy did not talk to her for about a week, but she was still too scared to go home. When he did eventually speak to her, it was to scold her and make her feel worthless. But anything was better than going back, so she endured it for as long as it lasted…

Karen eventually went back home

Her mother was so relieved to see her and all she wanted to do was hug her

Years later, Uncle Kennedy got born again, but he has never asked Karen for forgiveness. She is still close to her uncle regardless of everything, even though she still has questions about that night. will she ever get answers?

World Aids Day; Breaking my silence

2008-12-01T00:02:00.000-08:00

My cousin Immaculate. She was in S.3. Her mother had sent her to live with us when she was in P.7 after catching her with a man in the toilet, hoping that my dad, quite the disciplinarian would turn her into a disciple. She was in S.3. That was when she died. I remember how terrified I was of her. I remember how pale and skinny she looked. She vomited a lot. My dad fed her on a lot of eggs. And juice. And drugs that looks like stained glass. She liked to bask in the sun. Then when she could not take in any more, she would beckon me to help her up, and back in the house. But I would run off scared and beckon the house help. What if I caught whatever it is that she had. What if my lips chapped as hers had? What if I contacted those sores that I saw on her arms, legs feet, and hands? I did not know what it is she was suffering from, but I knew I never wanted it. She died a few months later. In our house. I was 10. At her burial, I heard people whisper. It was Aids that had done it to her. I told myself then that I did not want to die from HIV. Even if then I did not know how one contacted it.

She was my favorite cousin in the village Naome. She was always full of life, always chatting, and eager to show me around the farm and help me pick guavas. But when I went to the village that particular Christmas, everything had changed. Naome was not there to greet us. I found her lying in her bed, stark naked, moaning and writhing in pain. I took one look at her skinny body and knew immediately what she was dying from. Her huge eyes turned and stared at me blankly when I walked in. i ran out of the room and never went back. Five days later, at day break, she passed on. Aids had claimed yet another one. I was 12.

I find I cannot compose myself on this one. I had grown into a teenager. My dad and I clashed a lot. He was not that happy with me and I understood why. Come visiting day, he sent my elder sister to visit me. Had I been that bad that my father could not even bear to come and visit me? My sister had told me that he was busy. I did not buy it. I set out to read hard at school, maybe then I would win my father back. I found out from my mum later that father had been sick. Later that holiday, I noticed my dad was not his usual vivacious self. I also noticed he had stopped wearing shorts, his favorite weekend do. Once when he was jumping into his car, I noticed the sores on his legs. Wait. I had seen those sores before on Immaculate. I was horrified and mortified. Surely my dad did not have Aids. He was my father. He was not supposed to have any such humiliating diseases. I approached my elder sister and asked her. She confirmed my worst fears. She also pointed to the woman that had given him it. I was disgusted, and terrified, and I knew it would be only a matter of time. Three months later, the teacher on duty came to fetch me out of class during night preps. My dad had passed. Aids had claimed him. I was 13.

And many more…

Today I remember the many lives that have been lost to the Aids blight. I celebrate especially those that were dear to me. To those that are living with it and those that fight every day. To my little adopted sister who by no fault of hers was born with HIV, and my mum who fasts and prays for a miracle every day, for my little sister to get better.

Imagine the possibility of an HIV free generation…

My shine

2008-11-28T00:04:00.000-08:00

This morning on my way to work I was standing by the road trying to cross it obviously, because I do not have idle tendencies of just standing by the roadside for just. Anyway, so I am standing by the road looking left, right, then left. There is an elderly lady standing right beside me, also attempting to cross the road. She reaches out and takes my hand. Startled, I turn and look at her and without saying a word, held on to it tighter and helped her across the road. or maybe she helped me. On the other side, I let go of her hand, she smiled,I smiled, and withought ever sasying a word to each other, we had shared a moment. I have never felt so special in my life. It is the little things

Meanwhile, check out, neatsilverbow

pishures

2008-11-24T05:16:00.000-08:00

Work's crazy. Sometimes i work 13 hour days. I kiss butt for a living. In the morning, I am a kayungirizi of sorts. In the morning, I will be in the meeting with my bosses where I will listen to and comply with their every whim. And then when they are done whining, I will kiss their royal butts. Later in the day, I will call up the people that are in charge of satisfying the whims of my bosses and I will kiss their ordinary(insert list of all your favorite bloggers) butts. This is a true story by the way.

Also, is it just me or has there been a general slack in morale ampng boggers? wats up guys? keep those posts coming!

Anyway, here are some pictures. Feel free not to look at them.

Detamble fixing her glasses properly in order to make out those dark dark faces that were in front of her. Solomon King looking at her and thinking, dude, i am right in your face, how come you can't see me? anybody know what happened to detamble by the way?

something no man should be caught alive doing. carrying a woman's hadbag does not count as one of the romantic things a guy can do to prove undying love to a woman.

would you trust this proffessional tailor with your clothes?

Not even if the medicine is to save your own life?

And that tree is growing right outside of UMEME offices in nakawa/kyambogo. For those of you who do not geddit, the tree is growing right under the electricity lines. phew!

It contains Vitamins A, B,C,D,E and Z complex

Yep. When those of Warid start making airtime cards, they will stop being singled out.

Then later maybe you can taste the food

Dapht, and Doofus enrolled here

And that is Carlo.

The chilling truth

2008-11-24T03:42:00.000-08:00

Most of you probably read this story in Sunday vision. For the benefit of those that cannot access newspapers on weekends maybe because office is closed on Sundays and they cannot get ‘em free, they are too stingy and won’t spend on a newspaper, or their roads are too screwed up by Lord knows what and hence the newspaper trucks cannot get to their neighborhood, here is the short of it. On a July or June day in 2006, a rich man went to his construction site with two burly men and a 7 year old girl in tow, and watched while said men threw her into a pit that had been dug out in the still-under -construction- building and covered her with concrete and later proceeded to do sacrificial chants on her grave. This sort of thing is done in the quest for riches. I have not been able to have any pure thoughts since I read that story.

But just two days before that, I was out in the field with one of my bosses, also, a very popular rich little man in town. Anyway, he was briefing some of his employees (drivers) on safety and shit like that. Then he said something that chilled me to my breast bones. He said “Be sure not to knock down anybody. Because it is very costly in hospital bills. Unless you are lucky and that person dies. There I get to spend less on burial and stuff… ”

There. His concern was not for people’s lives but how much he would have to fork out in compensation. For the rich, it is all about the money. No heart.

I am not very happy today. Can you tell?

originallity 101

2008-11-21T07:20:00.000-08:00

The year is 2008. There is a credit crunch and the US has a Kenyan for President. It's a very odd state of events. Very! Back to the credit crunch. Money hasn't started growing on trees and while people wait for that, they need ideas. Brilliant revolutionary ideas. The stuff of legend. Stuff that people will buy.

Some where in the nation of Dapht, off the coast of Angola, a company has been brainstorming. Thus far, its been a futile process. The chairman of the board of directors Kwak Industries wants innovation or everyone will be subjected to reruns of that telenovella they loathe. Its not looking up and all hope is just about lost....when suddenly...

John: Ladies, I have come up with this brilliant and totally original idea. Let us manufacture batteries! you know, the kind that people can use in their remote controls. yes. I bet nobody has ever thought of that! not even the guy that invented remote controls. Am I brilliant or what?

Joseph and Japheth: Cool.

Japheth: But what shall we call the batteries?

John: That is where I come in. I also managed to come up with an original name to go with the batteries. Ladies, allow me to introduce you to Panasonic

Joseph Rushes over to his computer, types panasonic into his google search bar and gets 1,804,573,240 hits. Looks over at the girls disapointment showing on his face and says

Joseph: Thori Ladieth, but it theemth that name isth already taken. But here isth another name I had been meaning to bring to your attention justht in keth we ever invented a cardboard boxth. Are you ready for.....Toshiba!

Japheth who until now has been silently watching wondering what in the world she has been doing hanging around this dumb bunch, shakes her head)

Japheth: Ladies please. I hear what ya'll have been trying to say. But as you all already know, and i have constantly proven to you over the years i am the brilliant one in this group, let me do some brain storming with my medula and get back to you girls in three, two, one... PANASHIBA! And that is final!

Joseph and John dumbfounded by this sort of wizardry yet again, just nod their head in wonder and get down on their knees to worship the day's hero.

have a nice weekend guys

not without my onions

2008-11-17T07:32:00.000-08:00

Due to popular demand, I have decided to come back. Okay so I am stretching the public demand bit. Only Cheri wanted me back, but I am here anyway. I have been away because I was dealing with emotional trauma.

Last week Sunday
Lawn mower guy comes home pops his machine to life and before long, grass blades are meeting their demise. Nice enough. We do not have to live in constant danger of being bitten by snakes. Not so nice is that the noise from his outdated lawn mower has just interrupted my Sunday afternoon TV routine. Yes. On Sundays, I watch TV like it is going out of fashion. So I fought with my conscience about shouting at the guy about the possibility of muting his damn thing. Reason won. I figured, he couldn’t possibly know that the machine was making noise. You see, lawn mower guy is deaf. Besides, I have the plight of the physically disabled persons at heart.

Sometime last month
This genius idea came to me. It was so brilliant I sat back and hugged myself right after it had occurred to me. So I thought I would contribute to family welfare by increasing food production. I sorted through the onions at home and came up with perfect candidates for planting. Five of them were quickly lowered into the earth and I sat back and waited for harvest time. Everyday I checked on the onions, pruned, weeded and caressed. They were the best looking onions I had ever seen. They were so hot in fact, I could not wait to see how favorably they would compete with the boiling cooking oil once they had been harvested. In short, I was proud of these onions and even more proud of my handiwork. They were germinating well and I was pleased

Last week Sunday
In the evening, I went for my daily routine of checking on my onion garden. There were none. They had been leveled to the ground! They were the level of the freshly mowed grass. I knew immediately who had done it. I had let him off the hook earlier about the noise because he was deaf, but what excuse did he have now? Clearly his sight was excellent otherwise he would not have gone into the grass cutting business! How could he have not seen those onions? How could he have missed them standing there in their glorious splendor? How could he have mangled my babies so? So anyway, I am sorry, but I am going to have to shout at a handicapped person. So all this time when I have been away, I was composing a hate speech

Update
My onions once proud and glorious now sit in withering cowardice. The once healthy well fed glorious healthy looking leaves have become all skinny as they attempt to grow back. I miss my healthy babies

Fact
Yes I planted onions in a grass compound!

Loser chronicles

2008-11-10T03:35:00.000-08:00

From the loser chronicles, I bring you quotable quotes

Loser; so how have you been?
Antipop; ok. Have kind of missed you
Loser; Yea. I know. Despite everything people say I know people always liked me. You see, I always went the extra mile to make people happy
Antipop; I’m sorry, what?
Loser; Yes. I went the extra mile to make YOU happy
Antipop; when? Gi’me one example
Loser; you don’t remember? We even used to do sports together
Antipop; Er, sports?
Loser; Yes. We went drinking together. That is the greatest sport a man can do with a woman. You have got to admit though, that was a nice gesture on my part

Comment;
Yes I remember these times. Holed up in a cheap kafunda wedged between weird looking characters speaking Rutoro. The closest I got to sports was this one time they brought a steaming tray of pork and set it on the table in front of us. And loser told me to dig in. I folded my sleeves and did what any self respecting woman would do. I made a dash for the meat.

i have often wondered

2008-11-06T20:02:00.000-08:00

First off, let me just say that we all have different ways of looking at things. For example, boy recieves a basket of flowers, you see love, I see a blog post. By the way, that is as close as I am going to get to as if appologising to you who thought I have nugu and all that from before.

But this post is about how i have always wondered...yes. I sit there and start wondering about stuff. Research has shown that all smart people are like that. Also, this is as close as I am going to get to explaining to people how extremely brilliant I am. So this is what I have been wondering;

What type are you? Are you the type that wipes, squishes the tissue, dumps it in the toilet and pulls up your pants/panties and forgets about it? Or are you the looking type? As in, you wipe and you check...If you are the latter, don't you just hate how sometimes you wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe and wipe...phew!

Moral of this thought; Eat your greens and drink a lot of water!

Note to Baz; Do not think i have forgotten about the whole reputation killing tirade you had going about me the other day. Mbu "maternal-looking brown chick eating maize and humming Rock Of Ages to herself." I will have you know I have very excellent taxi ettiquette.

2008-11-05T19:48:00.000-08:00

Above is a gift basket a guy at work recieved as a surprise from his girlfriend. In it was all kinds of exotic fruit blank blank blank decorated with all sorts of flowers. Now, the only thing that came to my mind was this;

At what point in their relationship had she finally realised he was gay?

help. i am bored out of my skull

2008-11-04T06:09:00.000-08:00

i decided to quit lounging. i realised rather late that it did not put clothes on my back blank blank blank...so i got a job. yea. i know! finally! thank you y'all that bought me food, clothed me and all that.

turns out, lounging is the most fun i have ever done in my life. i come and sit at my desk and do nothing! zilch. just cut out newpaper storues and then stare at my blank computer screen!

blank because(i should mention that i am glad i have the computer. yesterday i was just staring at the woodwork of my desk. fine wood i must add. must be mahogany. or synthetic something. i digress)well, it is blank because i do not have an adapter, so i can not connect it to power yet. i hear they are going to have to first requisition for an adapter, have the bosses approve the purchase and then get somebody to go and pick it! Geeeez! i hate protocal. so anyway, i have no computer, no internet, no life!

that means i miss you guys

and i have had to beg somebody to use theuir computer! do you know how humbling that was? no? well it was!

don't know when i will be back here. ttfn= ta ta for now

How i met him...

2008-10-31T01:17:00.000-07:00

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

24

2008-10-28T21:37:00.000-07:00

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

EDIT:

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

2008-10-24T09:58:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-16T08:49:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-10-14T00:18:00.000-07:00

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.

THE END?

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

2008-10-06T21:37:00.000-07:00

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?

Uganda Blogger's Happy Hour; through my eyes

2008-09-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

Ofcourse there was no opening prayer. GUG did not grace us with his presence and nobody else felt obliged to say a prayer. Hence BHH just started with no event. Most of us were late. We were a nice small crowd. We talked and laughed and joked and teased and shared dreams and sympathized and empathized with each other’s disappointments. We missed those that did not make it and most of you came up in conversation. We wondered how to pronounce your names. Is it Gag or Goog? Is it Sibella or Saibella? Wris or Rice? In the end we were as baffled as we had started out. Here is the roll call

It was the evening of ditching. First, he ditched me. He is a newbie and wanted to come for the inauguration. He asked whether I would be kind enough to take him. I graciously said yes, I will hold your hand, I will let no harm come to you, I will protect you from the evil claws of the blogren, only to tell me later in the day ON MESSENGER that he was not going to be able to make it, his friends were going to outside countries and he had to kiss them goodbye. Then another blogger ditched me.

Then I call my backup chanel who told me she was on the way and we would infact arrive at about the same time. She came 3 hours later. Apparently she was still chatting with Mr Biggs. Their story is nauseatingly lovey dovey. When she walzed in, she smelled mighty nice, was glowing like waxed floors, and her top, shoes and jewellery matched to a tee. And that plunging neckline! Any lower and we would have had some serious spills- from oba the guys?

The lovely Mrs made a cameo appearance just to whisk away the Mr. Off to a place unknown. All evening, the Mr. And I had been plotting to go home together. I mean take the same taxi home since we stay in the same neighborhood, but I have never been ditched so fast! I took the solo ride home and arrived safe thank you all for your concern

Darlene was looking lovely as usual. And again, she tried to recruit me into the UTL family. Your employers must be proud of you. The UTL guys. As for your other employers Newvision, I am not sure they will be very thrilled about the careless abandon in which you write their movie reviews. I am sure they expect nothing short of “a girl, in large glasses diligently typing the story away at the typewriter or on that Windows1994 Computer” but not this girl. She put her Nokia something something or other to good use and while she sipped on coffee and chipped into the conversation, she also typed her story away. Niiiice.

Dante and Carlo. Dammit! Dammit! They look cute together. Dammit! Dammit! Sorry about that. Green monster was attacking me for a bit there. But how can they be that happy together? I need a plan. But anyway, here is some juicy gossip that may work against them. Turns out, Dante is detoothing Carlo. Yes. I have it on good record. You see, Dante ate chips and something laced with mayonnaise thingie and washed it all down with a cola. And Carlo paid! That is detoothing 101 I tell you. We talked about Melanie, Thabo Mbeki, the price of gilr’s clothes in some shops, whether or not I would buy a pair of shoes at 150k, at which I said ‘heck no!’ Carlo's bored with her job. This is an appeal for anyone that knows any one that's looking to employ someone. Holla at her. She told a story of black condoms- you know, same shade as a man’s skin. I thought that was racist. She said just like Band-Aid, someone came up with those suited for a black brother. Must have been undercover brother that thought up that idea.

back2basics. He ditched me. Dude, i thought we had connected all evening? People!

Collin the blogger, I unfortunately do not know his blog, was there. Dude walked all the way from Wandegeya to Mateos. With that kind of dedication, we would always have a full house at Mateos. He talked from when he got there to when he left. He had lots of fancy words but the ones that stood out most were the ones he used describing clothes, hair, shoes and fashion. He described my hair as ‘tresses,’ said Dee’s braids were called ‘locks’ and I forget how he described Carlo’s ponytail. He wondered whether basik’s sweaters are always pressed at which point chanel pulled the sweater out and displayed it. and sure enough, there was not a trace of a crease! Collin meticulously advocated for men’s rights to wax, pedicure and manicure-kinda makes sense tho. Geddit? MANicure? I called him gay, he threatened to prove me wrong and I left it at that.

Solomon is tall dark and handsome! And that smile... he is the guy of node-six. He observed and smiled.

Turns out, you can't trust TRUST.

I pulled out a pack of them from my bag and Experts, collin, Carlo darlene and basiks went about discrediting the poor things. collin said they are a size or two or three too small and Basiks was more interested in knowing how many more I still had left in the pack. All three were still there

Someone else will have a different tale. Go with that one.

BHH ; Rules and Regulations

2008-09-24T21:45:00.000-07:00

Agenda
- 6:30pm: the guests arrive (please be on time or do not come at all)
- 6:35pm: Opening prayer led by GUG
- 6:40pm: Opening Speech by the Kampalan
- 7:00pm: Minutes of last BHH by Rockthis
- 7:15pm: Open Forum/Ekimeeza(all members present must absolutely participate with vigor). Topics to discuss include;

a)What should bloggers do with all the oil in Hoima

b)Which blogger shall be sent to go and negotiate the Kony peace deal

c)Which blogger should go and pound sense into the environmentalists until the only truth they see is that DDT is the only way to the promised land

d)How does Thabo Mbeki’s resignation impact blogger’s lives? Will the Internet work faster now the evil man is gone?

e)The new Pakistani president; would you as bloggers have given him mercy votes?

f)Appoint blogger in charge of purchasing passenger helmets (elementi) for blogger boda boda users

g)Congratulating a Kanungu blogger coz finally electricity, DSTV, GTV, and internet found their way there

- 9:00pm: AOB by princess
- 9:01pm: Closing prayer by Int3llig3nsi4
- 9:30pm: Bed.

Observe the following-
* There will be no looking at men suggestively, or looking at them at all, and there shall at no time be any cameras trained at men. I am talking to you
* Dress conservative. Mini skirts shall not be tolerated. Pumps, earrings, jewellery, dreadlocks, French cut, bright colors, baggy jeans or any kinds of jeans for that matter shall not be accepted. Come wearing them at your own peril.
* There shall be no laughing, smiling, holding hands, hugging making eyes at each other, swapping phone numbers, drinking beer, tea or coffee. Water is life.
* No two grown up men or women shall be seen chasing each other around tables for any reason. Not even if say, one of the adults stole the other’s heart and the other one was trying to get it back or at worst steal the stealer’s heart as well. Not even then. Not even if you have to answer nature’s call or your mobile phone (please be reminded that there shall be ample network in the space allotted to you) You shall all remain in your seats at all times until such a time as you are permitted to leave.

Lastly, I leave you with this picture of a storied mud and wattle house in Kanungu. I am willing to bet my money on the fact that it is the only such building in Uganda

burden me

ttfn(ta ta for now)

2008-09-20T02:08:00.000-07:00

Antipop's off to kanungu, but i leave you with;

nothing saying, just in the mood to write something, anything

2008-09-18T01:18:00.000-07:00

When my cousin twat was in S.1, he was suspended from school for constantly refusing to go for karate classes. His dad failed to get any answers from him so he solicited for my services as ‘cool cousin’ to get him to tell him what the problem was. According to him, his hands were made for just one purpose. “These hands were made for the ladies,” he said to me with such conviction. Four years later, I get these free tickets to go see shaggy. As I had prior engagements, I called said cousin up and asked him to pick them from my place of work. As he did not call to thank me, I assumed he had failed to get the tickets. But on inquiry, I was told a certain teenager had indeed picked them up. Three weeks later, I get a phone call and caller ID says it is the little twat.

Lil twat: Antipop, what’s up man
A-P: er, I am okay. Hey, how come you never called to thank me for the shaggy tickets?
Lil Twat: Be chill man, I had no credit man.
A-P: So, this is a nice surprise…
Lil twat: Yea. Gwe man, I have a problem man
A-P: obviously, otherwise you would not be calling me
Lil.Twat: Man, Hols are gaming man, and I wanted to take my shortie out so I need you to house me man
A-P: How much are we looking at here?
Lil twat: I wanted to take her to G.C for a movie, then later hangout at the venue so I need like 40k, what! (I swear he said that. I did not just steal it (what) from Ivan)

1. When did the rules change? In my day, I was not even expected to know any boy’s name. Not even at campus
2. I can’t even afford to go to the theatre myself? Why am I expected to fund this teenage romance?
3. What is shortie?

an eye for an eye

2008-09-17T02:27:00.000-07:00

Uncle George groomed me to be a lawyer. Everytime we were having conversation he happened to say, “When you become a lawyer…” never if. It was a given. I was going to finish secondary school, enroll in university, get a law degree and be a lawyer. And I believed it. I even spiced it up, so that everytime someone asked me what I wanted to become in future, I said, “Barrister.” But then I always had a true love. Lounging. So when it came to filling in forms for which courses I wanted to do at the university, I filled in “Lounger” in all the dotted spaces. He has never forgiven me for betraying him, and I have never felt better for stabbing another person in the back. And it turns out, there is no such course at the university. So I have perfected the art of lounging all by myself. I am genius like that. Now back to being judge. You see, my uncle might have been grooming me for bigger challenges in life. If only I could have listened.

I have mentioned before that I live with my sister (she’s kind bla bla bla). Well, she has a husband. And they are always bitching and bickering and pointing fingers. My job is to twist the finger to point in the appropriate position. I solve marital cases. They range from who is fatter to who loves his car better than his wife. I solve them all in these different ways;

a) I may stalk off to my bedroom ignoring the both of them
b) I might smile and say hello, and do a) above
c) I might indulge their foolishness and listen
d) None of the above

Often when I do c), I always try to come up with a solution. My brother in law might say to me as soon as I enter the house “A-P, I have a problem. Your sister has big feet” and then my sister will shout “He is the one with the rough fingers.” For one I might recommend Movit or Samona and for the other, liposuction. Case closed. This one time I fell short of my expectations. I had no answers for the impasse posed to me on one hot September night. I got back home tired, from an honest day’s lounging, and all I really wanted to do was get acquainted with my bed, but my brother in law needed answers.

So he says to me “Antipop, I think your sister has taken on a sugar daddy. ” Amused, I ask, how is that? So he says, “well, she has a contact saved in her phone she calls ‘Cash’ ”

This newbie is taking tentative steps into Blogville. Check him out.

I am whipped!

2008-09-14T22:00:00.000-07:00

Dear diary,

Yesterday, I fell in love. I am ashamed to say that it was with a younger man. You see, I tried to fight it but it felt like there was a force pulling me towards this man. I knew it was wrong. I knew it would be frowned upon, but i followed the force anyways. I let it pull me, I let my heart give in. But truth be told, i was not trying hard enough to resist the pull. That, or love never takes no for an answer. So I watched helplessly as my knees buckled under me, I sat still as i felt a gentle tug at my heart. I surrendered to Love. His name is Isiah.

Isiah

The love of my life in the arms of another woman; My sister.

Isiah looking at me with non-expressive eyes. Trying to hide what is obviously his adoration for me. But whatever. I love him enough for the both of us.

I sent her for a hot Zulu boy, and she got me those instead. Imagine how many things i could possibly do with a hot Zulu. Now think how many things i could do with shoes. Just the one. Walk.

Today my workmate said to me...

2008-09-11T02:45:00.001-07:00

“Antipop, you will never get married”
Truth be told, he is not the first man to tell me this. Another workmate also told me something to that effect about three months ago. And remember Duncan? The crybaby? Well, one day, he also told me I might never get married. I hear no man was going to be able to take my whole educated bullishness. Then there is my brother in law who thinks I will make a slave of any man that will be silly enough to take me.

Their reasons are that I am a woman and I should be willing to compromise.

My brother in law says I am too big headed for any man. According to him, it is okay for a man to have more than one woman, to go out and drink all night long and the duty of his wife to stay home and wait for him. He goes crazy everytime his wife goes out with her friends especially the male kind, whereas he has no misgivings about telling stories of how he was in the casino the other day with his friends Stella and Joanna….
So I always say to him, if a man cheats, by God I have every right to cheat. If he thinks it is okay to go to a bar and come back at 3 in the morning and expect me to open for him, he should also be ready to open for me at 3:30 when I return from rock night. What is good for the goose is good for the gander. Right? Right?

At which point my brother in law sings to me, “every woman needs a man” and I say “yes. But does it necessarily have to be a husband?” Do I need a husband to be able to have sex? Must it be a husband that fathers my children? Do I need a husband to be able to have companionship? Can’t I just date? Can’t I just have random sex if it is physical fulfillment I search for? Must I walk down the isle to feel like a total woman? Must a woman always be defined by a husband? Why do people tend to think that the most important role a woman can ever play on earth is to take on a balding hairy man with fat fingers, to be the person she wakes up next to for the rest of her life?

My most trusted uncle asked me the other day whether I had gotten a boyfriend yet, so I told him I had not yet. I was still looking for the right one. And he advised me, “Antipop, I think it is time to lower your standards. Men (and I say this because I am a man) are not perfect. Therefore, you should just get someone, and be willing to take him as he is” Really? Should I compromise my values, principles, and everything I stand for just so I can get a man? To get married, have babies, grow fat and please society? Should I really be reduced to taking on Mr. Wrong just so I can appear normal?

John (not real name ofcourse) and I were dating. A really nice, funny guy. Cared about me, was intelligent, had stimulating(CB would have been real proud of him) conversation, successful and all that. Until one day we are talking and he says to me “antipop, I really do not believe in the whole emancipation shit. I believe a woman belongs home cooking for me, looking after me and watching over my property.” He also hinted that if say, I ever accepted to marry him, he would expect me to quit my job and stay home. I did not talk to him for a week and when I finally talked to him, it was to tell him, I could not see him anymore. We are still good friends. I still hate him for what he said to me.

I am incensed by all this shallowness. You wonder why people even go to school if they are going to come out thinking like this. I do not ask a lot from a man. Really. All I ask of a man is that he know how to cook and prove it to me. Everyday.

2008-09-08T06:04:00.000-07:00

er, whatever!

Antipop double standards

2008-09-04T00:13:00.000-07:00

Antipop=against pop music. I hate pop music. I will say to you “if you ever find me listening to pop music slice my head off and feed it to the vultures.” But one day you might find me listening to said genre of music. Just before you slice off my head, when you ask whether there is one last thing I would like to say before I die, I might plead not guilty thus; “but it is alternative rock, not pop. Honest.”

At the bank, I hate when someone cuts into the line in front of the rest of us. Often I have even told them to shove it and proceeded to read them the riot act, the bank’s rules and regulations and the common decency act. At lunch however, I will be damned if I will stand in the sun queuing for rice and beans. So I just shove past people at the door and shamelessly ask ‘Kanungu’ (the lunch guy) for a food coupon.

I abhor littering. I almost scream everytime someone throws trash into the road from a moving vehicle with such careless abandon as if they are doing the most natural thing in the world. I do not litter. Well, you be the judge after hearing this story. Often times on my way to work, I am eating a banana. After doing my monkey business, I roll down the car window and throw out the banana peeling into the bushes. My consolation is that it will rot and mix with the soil. Do I litter?

I am revolted by people who spit in public. I always say, “just how hard is to just swallow?” well this one time, I got out of the taxi and it was raining. There was no bodaboda in sight so I ran in the rain all the way home. Home is not near. Half way through, I got a burning urge to spit. I gave in. I spat by the roadside. My consolation; atleast there was no one in sight.

The only time it is right to spit in public is when you spit in someone’s mouth for picking their nose in full view of the world. I got this overwhelming desire to pick my nose the other day but I was at my sister’s shop and I knew any minute a customer would walk in and catch me at it. So I held this large file in front of my face and proceeded to relieve myself. No I did not have a handkerchief.

And that talk about losers, well, sometimes I am afraid, I have been the loser. I have cried, I have abandoned and refused to take calls, I have sort of cheated, I have walked out and I have told the lies.

I am fallible

here's putting a face to a reputation

2008-09-03T08:26:00.000-07:00

Am i awesome or what? Here's bringing you more pictures of fated BHH meet that wasn't quite up to the expectations of some visiting bloggers and researchers.

Here is Tom. Tom Smyth. He's Canadian. Not American. He came for BHH in July, and left prematurely.

The canadian eating his awesome spicy things and drinking Ugandan beer(Chairman's ESB) while female bloggers drool at his height and hair. Can you see all those girls openly staring? See how they have their phones trained on him all dying to take a picture of his tall awesomeness?

ranting raving bitching and hating on country boy or is it boi?

2008-09-01T05:22:00.000-07:00

INDEX
Thomas Smyth- a bored visiting American tourist
Dennis D Muhumuza- a 20 something bitter Christian mad that everyone does not think like he does
Blog- an Internet diary of sorts or there abouts
Bloggers- Underrated, awesome, intelligent people who cannot be bothered to indulge in cheap political debates and have given up all hope of world peace
Antipop- blogger

In the interest of attributing and coming off as authentic, here is me citing that Carlo started this whole explosion. Here is my own tantrum. Since the article is absurdly long, I will pick out a few sentences and comment on them. Then like all good essays are, I will have a conclusion. related posts can be found here dee, tandra, and baz,

“A debate had raged between two bloggers and a visiting American. Are all Ugandan bloggers okay with taking their meetings to a bar?” why no! Only the other day I suggested that we go to a discothèque. Only problem was that club Silk would not be open at 6:30pm

With Michael Jackson’s Thriller playing in the background, Thomas Smyth literally shouted his order, for that was the only way the waitress was going to hear.That's about when the two adults pursued themselves around tables 1. Don’t you just love MJ? Belting out tunes like that to spook idle BHH flukers? 2. Have you considered that maybe the poor waitress could not understand the American’s fabulous accent? Couldn’t he just point at the menu? And B2B, it was fun playing rounders with you

It was the beginning of a shocking evening for the American. You shock easily!

Soon, girls were eying him surreptitiously and whispering (possibly about his towering height) and taking pictures with their phones.- CB please! Slow your role. Have you seen the height on some of the guys that grace BHH?

Thomas Smyth gulped his drink and left the Happy Hour prematurely- why? Was he there to take the minutes? Or did he expect to give the closing prayer?

A woman would for example upload a picture of her g-string on her blog and ask if the readers like it. - Prove that g-string belongs to said woman. Show where it says she asks people whether “they like it”. I need to meet your editor.

A June 30 blog entry boldly titled “Boobs!”- Go Carlo. Go Carlo. Go Carlo(i am tired of linking).

From S.A.G.E’s understanding, bloggers are supposed to update their lives and voice their opinions on things they strongly feel about to provoke intellectually stimulating debate. - S.A.G.E is not God! He did not invent blogging. He did not coin the concept of personal diary (it was Anne Frank btw). Also, show me one stimulating post at S.A.G.E’s.

so girls talk about the first time they lost their virginity in the shower room, and boys about how sweet sex in the morgue is- Gimme links to these blogs this instant! I have been missing out!

“We don’t seem to have a lot of reported blogs in Uganda, which is very disappointing. In America, bloggers investigate…- America this, America that, America the other! Can’t we just be our own people?

“The culture (of blogging) puffs out like a hot air balloon; directionless and pointless.”- hot air balloons have compasses Einstein!

It’s only after we have revolutionized the way we think and blog that people like Thomas Smyth will not leave the Happy Hour with inhibitions. Poor, poor Thomas. Did your mother never tell you that story of peeping tom? No? It goes thus; if you are not invited to BHH, keep your damn comments to yourself. Nobody asked. But, if you felt that the conversation was not stimulating enough for you, how come I did not hear you bring up any intellectual topic and see how we refuse to respond because we are not brilliant enough?

The end

P.S Been trying to post pictures of the american in vain. Will put them up soon as i can

the perfect diet

2008-08-26T08:17:00.000-07:00

So at the big brother profile, when they say Big Brother III is back, what exactly do they mean? Have they shown this particular season before? When? When did it air? Had it like gotten cancelled and now it is back on air? It is all very confusing. Would be glad to get any kind of clarification on this matter anyone. About the diet;

I am fat. I have cellulite, and when I sit, my stomach folds into four ribbon like shapes. Naturally, I battle the weight. So sometimes I will eat two slices of cake, instead of five, will drop a few crystals off of the spoon just before I dip all 5 of them in my cup of tea, I will slice the crust off the 6 slices of bread just so I can feel good about eating less. Not to mention that I will insist that my meat be lean everyday when it is served on my plate at lunch, and at dinner. I will even throw in two push-ups atleast once a week. I cannot afford to take chances. I am a health nut like that.

So I am always on the look out for diet plans and regimens that I can follow. Once I discovered the cabbage soup diet, where you are supposed to eat cabbage soup for breakfast, lunch dinner and repeat for days on end. The carrot diet where you eat one huge carrot for breakfast, eat half a carrot for dinner and just sniff it at breakfast. There was the water diet where you drink water all day and all night for Lord knows how many days. Needless to say, I have tried all of these for all of like 3hours (total), and they have not done anything for me.

And these diet plans are all so depressing. How nice it would be to land on a diet that says, “lose 10kg on a diet of cake and ice cream” or “get amazing abs in two weeks of just sitting on the couch watching TV.” Or “the new whole milk with cream that is guaranteed to suck the cellulite out of your hands” How come I cannot lose weight in a fun way like that? I have been in despair for a long time over this, which is why I am excited to share with you this new magic bullet fun diet I have discovered...

I am signing up.

Obama. Lets not get carried away

2008-08-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

2016, a tired Obama is seated at his desk in the oval office right behind the naval seal with a satisfied smile on his face, ready to hand over power. Maybe even to Chelsea Clinton. Yes. He has done it. Become the first black president of the free world. He looks around and tries to take it all in. He looks at the door and remembers way back in 2008 when he had first walked through it, and how nervous he was. Yes, he has come a long way. If only he can keep his eyes tightly shut, him and a million other people out there really, the dream will not go away. Because right now, all anyone can do is dream.

Here is the reality. After a drawn out contest, a first if its kind on whatever front you look at it- in one corner, a female presidential candidate and in the other blue corner, a black candidate- Obama came out victorious as the front runner for the U.S presidency on the democratic party ticket. The fat lady had finally sung, and what a tune she had belted out!

The morning after he won the democratic nomination, he was all everyone was talking about. From local TV and FM stations, the taxi driver chatting enthusiastically to his conductor, the leading dailies, and even talk among women who are normally far removed from the political surroundings (although to be fair they were discussing his looks). The Obama drug was taking effect. It was as if the prices of fuel, food and the northern war peace treaty (or lack thereof) no longer seemed to matter. Ugandans had embraced Obama.

This is worrying on so many fronts. One that we almost seem more enthusiastic about it than our neighbors in Kenya and he is afterall their cousin. Kind of like that woman who howls, wails and threatens to kill herself at the death of her stepchild when the child’s mother is weeping quietly in a corner. Two, that Obama’s election will not change the situation here. Honest, those potholes will remain. Three, that Zimbabwe is still being led by a tyrant, Ugandans have not won any gold medals at the olympics, there is a crisis in Darfur, and yet we channel our energies in the Obama campaign. Four that he is still only just a candidate.

All that enthusiasm is not going to pay off in the end. I hate to disappoint all of you enthusiasts, but your opinion as Ugandans matters only so much. Reminds me of the last US presidential elections, how a certain tabloid here ran an editorial on Election Day that read, “Here at (insert tabloid name) we support John Kerry.” I bet John Kerry wrote them a letter later thanking them for their support. I bet he didn’t.

Right now, the best thing he has going for him is that he is an underdog in this contest and people love a good David conquers Goliath story. That could get him elected. But only just.

So while we hold our breaths, let us not look at him as our salvation. If (yes, if) elected, he will probably stay as far away from Africa as possible just so he is not accused of being partisan. Lets face it. He is just another politician, whose biggest agenda right now is to be in the books of history. Let us not get ahead of ourselves now.

Have a beautiful weekend

My name's antipop and i am back

2008-08-18T22:37:00.000-07:00

I have been gone for a week or so, doing mainly nothing. I am well aware that no one's asked where i have been, or ashed me to return, or even said they missed me, but i have come back anyway, and i will have you know that i did miss you regardless. anyway, here are the BHH photos that i did promise if you are still interested.

who went and abandoned this beautiful lady?

that's right. Her Chips and chicken buddy did

"wamma check. has my wonder bra achieved desired results in this?"

without those oh so white teeth and the fingernails and maybe the watch, B2B would have disapeared in the darkness. He seems to be shielding Chanel from the prying eyes of our cameras. I wonder from what. You guys wanna get a room for that sort of behavior?

antipop being antisocial. so you have a mobile phone. so what? mingle around and say something to that guy standing next to you already. Wait. He seems to be ignoring you as well. In that case, text away.

Jared, a newbie, posing for our snoops as dee reaches for her water, albeit wondering how to get the newbie's phone number.not that she is in the business of collecting phone numbers or anything

bloggers having a moment

hi. i iz roko artis(sue me) and thiz iz my queen dancers beaches and peaches

with a name like 'the dare devil' you can only imagine that that smile is just for the Kodak moment.

channel taking it upon herself to record the moments at BHH

me, taking it upon myself to record her butt, legs and those red heels that the fashion expert called 'killer red pumps'

"There. i have managed to get it all out! And boy oh boy is it thick." Dee seems to be telling Ivan as she removes a lump of wax from his ear

holla

2008-08-10T02:31:00.000-07:00

Hurro?
Have i reached Hot 100? I would like to send my shoutz to
Mowzey Radio, Weasel, Straka, Tindatiine, Recheal K, Abdu Mulasi, Vagina Monologues, Recheal K, Olanya, Dream Girls, AGOA, Ken Lukaymuzi the man, the Black Mamba's and Chanelno5

Trax for you

Noah- Aishakeez
I miss the dragon- Sisqo
My Heart Will Go On- cindlione

i believe i can fly

2008-08-07T22:00:00.000-07:00

I can not ride a bicycle. Not even when it is stationary(and i have tried that too believe me).i have no idea how to go about steering a car to move from one place to the next. Can't even tell which pedal does what. But, but, yesterday, I rode a plane! or piloted it or whatever it is they call it these days. Yes you heard me. I actually held the control panels, steered left to right, to center, dived down and shot up, all in 30 seconds. Now you would think that after all this speech i would be ecstatic. Hardly. If i had one word to describe the experience, that word would be, nauseating.
I am afraid of heights

Self censorship tip* refrain from using the words show off and braggart in comments. believe me, I already know.

blogger hogger

2008-08-06T22:39:00.000-07:00

blogger has played me. eaten up my comments.i am angry.

My first movie date

2008-08-05T00:28:00.000-07:00

It was not at Cineplex. Or an equivalent. But it was memorable.

I was 12 and my breasts had just began to sprout (the way they look now you would think that they are still in the process of germination, but apparently, this is all the growth there will ever be. I need to have them done one of these days). Sorry, back to the date.
So my breasts were just budding, my hormones were working over drive and there was this boy Christopher.

Christopher or Trevor- you were not cool then unless you had a super cool self-baptized name. I went by Snoop Doggy Doggy (Rocco. You don’t have to tell me) myself- Sorry I keep wondering. Anyway, Trevor was hot. And I was the envy of my classmates. You see, Trevor was in S.3 and I was in P.7, so I was like all that. What I did not tell my classmates is that Trevor was my sister’s boyfriend, but he liked to hang around me when my sister was away at boarding school. So anyway, one day, Trevor asked to take me for a movie.

My dad was out of town on Lord knows what parents go to do upcountry during school, but he was out of town and this was the happiest time of our life my siblings and I. We got up to all kinds of mischief. So when Trevor asked to take me for a movie, on a school night, I could not have been happier. I rushed home after school, showered (I hated bathing then, mind) got out my lacy dress and set out to meet Trevor. It was just a little after 8pm and my elder sister was not amused, but I would be damned if I listened to her.

The movie we were scheduled to watch was starting at 10pm so we waited a little outside the showing place. I call it showing place because I cannot describe it. The seats were some dirty benches, the TV and deck hoisted up on two tables stacked together. The crowd, a filthy lot, me, the only girl. Meanwhile Trevor and I waited outside for our scheduled movie to begin. For the life of me, I do not know what we talked about for over an hour, but we did have some conversation.

We sit for our movie. The first images that flash on screen are of a woman in a bikini, vigorously washing the bonnet of a car, this dude from nearby garage coming over and dropping his overalls and bending over said woman…

I got back home about 11:30 (Yes. Such movies tend to run for short lengths) still reeling from what I had seen. Waiting for me with a facial expression I never want to see on another person ever, was my dad, facing the entrance, a belt in his hand. Wtf? *&^(()&$*! This dude was scheduled to return two days later! Short story. He beat me black and blue. I wonder what he would have done had he known what exactly I had been getting up to.

Anyway, the next day he sat me down and asked, “antipop, are you really a virgin?”

BHH; The report

2008-08-01T00:38:00.000-07:00

First off, we went to virgin ground. Effendy’s. We missed all of you that could not make it, but you understand, the party had to go on.

Antipop, came, saw, and left

Duksey. Always the latecomer. So anyway, she showed up for about 3 minutes. Sources say that she later ran off to hang in silk lounge where there was a clown show of sorts.

Ivan; I have never heard anyone whine so much about being in a new place. He counted off many things that he hated about the new place to anyone who cared to listen (clearly not me, coz I can not even remember one). But by the end of the evening, he was singing a whole new song. He tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Antipop, I think i like this place better!” in my head I changed that sentence to, “antipop, I was wrong. I hope one day you all can find it in your hearts to forgive me for all the bitching I did earlier. I do not know better. Maybe I should always keep my mouth shut”

chanel; She was hot. She was rocking some hot red heels. Came with a hot chic she says was a well-wisher. Kept to herself most of the time, studying the atmosphere. I am sure she has tales about what each of us got up to when we thought no one was watching.

Edmo aka Basics aka Mr. back to basics; He caused a stir when he first walked in with a beautiful lady (or woman) in tow. Everyone threw this question at him “is that the Mrs.?” to which he replied, “Heck fucking no! The Mrs. is too good for y’all.” Okay, he did not say that. Said something like the Mrs. is for his eyes only and ended that conversation like that. Anyway, he was killing some dope (he likes to say) black vest. Hmm hmm hmm. I spent most of the evening chasing him around the table for a Kodak moment. He won. I never got any pictures of him.

Rev. Of the Space fame. As I suspected, he got love from the girls all too eager to fill the void created by Space (his cat). I would not be left out, so we swapped an awesome hug and oba I threw him a mercy word? Can’t quite remember. His dreads were in check this time round. All neatly tucked into a huge white cap. He disappeared for like 5 minutes and when he returned, the dreads were everywhere. Anything you want to tell us Rev?

Dee; this sweet, sweet (not that I know for a fact or anything) girl kept us in check, tried to mingle with everybody, even chatted a bit with the newbies, and a lot with Ivan and Edmund. It was obvious she was missing someone. Oh yea. And she confronted me with evidence that she had uncovered my secret identity! I trembled for a bit until she told me what it was, so I calmed down very confident that no one had yet discovered my other life as a loser hugger.

The dare devil; she was teased a lot about how she could have possibly deleted her former blog by accident. Everybody had wild theories. She finally admitted to me later that it was the aliens that done it.

Cb. was there. Came with an entourage. A white guy he introduced as his secretary, and two other guys that were carrying his equipment. Okay maybe I lie. Anyway, they looked like bloggers on a mission. Turns out they were writing a story or other about bloggers and Cb took pics. My plea is that he gets consent from each one of us before he sends the pics to Time or Newyork Times or something.

Princess. She was her usual royal quiet, albeit cooking up an awesome post or other. She left early to attend to some urgent personal business. Me thinks it is something to do with love. She had the look…

Foxylamb. This one I nominate for miss photogenic. I attempted to take pictures on my phone and out of everyone, she is the only one that managed to look as if(get out of my head Tandra) human. No. It is not my phone. But these bloggers looked really shoddy. Oh, and she ate chips and chicken. With Edmund.

i may, or may not put pictures up later.

SOS, 911, 999, AHOY MR BEEVER, space needs a home

2008-07-31T05:39:00.000-07:00

i hate cats. but in the interest of keeping my friendship with comrade lest he unleash communist thugs on me, i am putting out a plea for someone to take in his cat space! i cant take him or her or whatever, but surely, someone out there will?

Comrade is moving today. Out of his slum. Not to Entebbe, not just yet, he's going somewhere else.
He can't take Space.

So this is a cry for help, can anyone look after her for a month? He'll pay for her food. Space just needs a place to sleep and someone to pat her and whisper sweet nothings to her. You know the pet thing, you ignore them all day, leave some food out and just give them a warm place to sleep at night.

If you can take her or you know someone who would look after her for a month then comment here or email me (address in profile)! Has to be today!!! Or she'll be put down. Dead Space.

Here comes the sinners

2008-07-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

In the bloggers’ world I have realized, nothing tastes as sweet as nabbing socks, sockies, firsties, boots, nze nsocks, or whatever else they have revolutionalised into these days. I have heard the word lingerie has come into play even. So in the rush to nab socks, some bloggers I am afraid have mangled the English language or even sometimes swallowed up entire words. Presenting Bad Idea, er, sorry, bloggers that I have painstakingly followed up and busted. And since this is my blog, I will be the defense attorney, the prosecutor, the judge and the jury. And the verdict is; guilty.

Antipop commenting over at Cheri’s: "i dont know whta this post is about yet. i just saw that no one has commented yet, so i just rushed over to say nothing really. sue me"

Antipop at Detamble’s: "i am not going to laugh. much as i am getting constipated tryuing to hold the laughter inside of me. and that is because one day i will marry an african man. and i will not have them fing out about my past life of days when i used to laugh at high butts."

Antipop at B2B’s: "what have i learnt from this post? well, that er, well I was not asked whethet b2b was right"

31337 at cheri’s: "ati mimi ni common sense? ngoja ufike nyumbani, d&*&&^^$#(^#^$%#&@*" (this one’s in the dock just coz I did not understand a word he wrote. Also, because I am fast looking like the only culprit here.)

Antipop at Detamble’s: "And here i was thinking the post was about how fabulous, hot, amazing, extar orinary I am! So amyway, that whole defensive thing you did about you and rev only goes to convince me that i was right afterall :-)"

Okay so I started out this whole post confident that I was going to nab people! But this whole thing has boomeranged on me. So the award for most illiterate blogger goes to, (insert annoyingly long tension filled silence) Antipop!

I accept the award on his behalf. thank you all for voting.

loser was sorry he got caught

2008-07-28T07:39:00.000-07:00

He owed me a lot loser you see. Owed me hours and hours of fees in therapy. This here loser had turned me into agony aunt. And for a long time I sat there and took it. Sat there and listened, and nodded and comforted, and hugged (those I enjoyed) and cajoled and advised. All the while hoping that it would end. It made me feel special at first that loser was confiding in me, and I guess I wanted to show him that I would always be there for him.

I did not find it wrong that he laid the ex burden on me the very first time we talked; even before he took my number. Not even wrong that by the end of the first date I knew more dirt about his ex than I would ever need even if I needed to expose her in the ONION for whatever reason. I never thought it wrong that I sat and listened never imagining that one day, this story might be about me, and a different agony aunt would be listening. I never thought it wrong that when he talked about her, he used the word ‘women’. I did not see then that loser was making all 3 billion of us pay for the sins of his ex. As if we were not suffering enough paying for Adam and Eve’s sins as it were. But I just liked how he ‘trusted’ me. I liked to feel wanted. I was trapped.

It started to feel wrong when I realized that I did not have the exclusive rights to this dish. Turns out, loser told anyone that had a moment to listen. That was wrong. It was wrong that his friend had dirt on me that only loser knew. It was wrong that no matter how long we had been going out, I had not stopped being agony aunt. I was still there listening. I started to wonder when it would all end. When we would talk about me. I started to get bored. Of the same stories, and of the storyteller. But I digress. The post is about how loser was sorry he got caught.

Through very reliable sources, I got to learn that loser had infact gone behind my back and you know, messed around. Now, I should have been happy that atleast now there was another person to listen to him rant and whine, but I was not. There was nothing amusing about the fact that she is one of my friends. I felt cheated (but then that was the whole point, no?). Betrayed. Violated. I confronted him with this.

Loser then says how sorry he is, how he had meant to tell me, and how he did what he did because he cared about me. Because he was angry that I had been neglecting him, and acting like I was not interested in him anymore even though he knew better (Yes. he said that. The nerve!) I was hard pressed to figure out how exactly messing around was supposed to show me how he cared about me, so I went on and asked. Turns out he was so mad at me and wanted to pay me back, and the fact that I made him mad enough to do something like that surely showed that he cared about me? And that was the answer he was sticking to.

This conversation ended with; “all I can say is that I am sorry you found out”

And that is the story of how i was once agony aunt

everlasting love threatened

2008-07-21T05:28:00.000-07:00

this means that you can not say to me again, "antipop, i will love you until lake victoria dries up..." Now there is evidence it is a lie.

on my to kill list today,

2008-07-18T01:30:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the songs that make my intestines grind against each other and threaten to expel all that bread, rice and sugar that I binge on everyday. These songs make me get so constipated, that when I go to the loo, all I expel is air. They make my head hurt so bad that I want to commit suicide. These songs, they suck the cellulite out of my thighs- that’s a good thing actually- these songs, I hate.

Umbrella (Rihanna)- Yea. I know I am going to take heat on this one coz in the video she has on that cute penguin costume that exposes her round bottom. But man, I hate that song. I hate it especially coz it has corny, cheesy RnB lyrics that are also suggestive if you pay attention and that ella, ella, chorus thing that sounds like it was churned out for the Blu three in Steve Jean’s shack

No one (Alicia Keys)- I love Alicia. But what a joke! What a mockery to her person! How dare she put her reputation at stake? And for what? For those amateurish lyrics? And that bridge! ‘Oh oh oh oh oh (repeat till you cry)…’ I forgive you Alicia, because of that song “you don’t know my name,” but please if you ever come up with anything like this garbage again, we shall part ways for real.

Say what you need to say (John Meyer)- Actually, those are the only words he says in the whole song. Why is it important that you remind us to say what we need to say like a million times? Dude, we heard it the first time. Don’t try to force your blood into our veins!

Blue Magic (Jay Z)- This guy says sometimes he composes a song in like 25 minutes. Here. Sample some of the lyrics to this song… “No pain, no profit!”(You just found that out Einstein?) …. “Chef, guess what I cooked”(genius connecting chef and food! Who would have thunk?)…. “Rockstar, look”(something had to rhyme with cook). The video has a good picture. And colors.

Cindy’s new song. Anyone heard it? No? Don’t.

Gimme More (Britney spears)- That song is a mess. The video, a complete mess. No more of that song, please.

Four minutes (Madonna)- Now grandma Madonna has got to take a break. Go and breast feed baby Banda or something. Wait. There is no milk in there. Right. Go milk the goat then, but whatever you do, stop twisting ever so painfully like that, always putting me on tension wondering at what point you shall break that hip. And for fucksake stop hanging around the young boys. It only makes you look older. And put on some clothes while you are at it.

Teacher (Master Blaster)- For just

walls have ears. so do I

2008-07-16T22:32:00.000-07:00

I am nosy. I listen in to conversations I have no business listening in to. But I do it for you my dear bloggren. so I can have stories for you. Now this story is going to have a lot of gaps. I am going to have to reconstruct some of the scenes that happened when I had not yet met John and Mary.

I met John and Mary at a taxi stage late sarturday morning. From where i was standing, they looked like they were bickering. So I inched closer to try and tap in on their conversation. Nothing like good ol' gossip to kick start a lame saturday. So I shove some guy out of the way and stand right next to this arguing pair.

Yay! It was an argument about sex. I was in business! so anyway, I will reconstruct the events that i missed, until where I join in the conversation.

John and Mary love each other. Or lust after each other. Whatever. For that reason therefore, they ended up in a lodge together.Either because John is a married man and will not take mary to his place, or John stays with his parents, or they were just too tired to go back to their place and decided to shack up in a lodge. So yea. they go to a lodge, and John fails to score with Mary. This mary sure looked like a mean girl. The kind that will not unleash until oba you put a ring on her finger or atleast introduce her to the parents. So anyway, John was mad at Mary for withholding valuable goods, and mary was trying to explain to John why she had denied him sex. But John, was at this point only reasoning with his frustrated wee wee. so anyway, here is the line that this whole post is basically based upon

John: Next time I want to us hook up, remind me to book us into a monastry or something

And then the taxi arrived

Taking the leap

2008-07-14T00:36:00.000-07:00

I had been putting it off for about 5 months now, but I knew I needed to do it. No matter how may times you have done it before, it never gets easier with the next time. I was terrified but I had to do it. The dreaded HIV test. For all of the 45 minutes I waited, I began to think about the losers…

I thought about the one that stole my money
The one that hit on all my friends
The one that did not shower regularly
The one nightstand that got clingier than rat glue
The one that had a crush on Straka (I mean, dang!)
The one with the chipped tooth
The one that started it all
The one that never was
The one that thought was doing me a favor being with me
The one that I regret
The on that, that that

(insert paragraph where I try to explain to anyone who cares that the number is way less than all above…)

Then I thought about where I would buy a gun
Which one I would finish off first
Would I go about them in the order they had come in?
How would I pull off the perfect crime?

I began to construct an alibi…

That is when a hand tapped me on the shoulder…. “Excuse me, your results are ready, now if you will follow me please”

I looked at his somber poker face, and it hit me.
It was not about the losers. I was never worried about any of them. I had not done the test because it was free (might be lying there), or because my friend was holding my hand. I had done it for him. I had wanted to know because of him. I wanted everything to be perfect between us. I looked at the counselor and hoped. Hoped that he would not be the one that broke my heart. Because whatever happened, I was going to have to tell him. Then I panicked. I did not want it to end. It was too soon. I did not want to go back to the dark, dark days… then he showed me my test results. And I texted him.

Loser promised

2008-07-11T00:01:00.001-07:00

Every little girl dreams of what her first kiss will be like. They practice in the mirror, on Barbie, whatever (while their counterparts practice on the maid). It has got to be perfect. Because that first kiss might very well determine the course of world peace. Well, I had those dreams. Of the perfect first kiss

You see, I always thought Kevin (neighborhood hunk) would be my first kiss. All the girls were crazy about him, but Kevin, he was crazy about me.

But that is not how it all played out

Conniving shithead loser had other ideas. This loser was my cousin. He was 8 years older than me. He was 19, I was 11. Well, shithead liked to say nice sweet nothings to me. And I loved to hear them. Once he told me I had the best shoulders he had ever seen. Up to now, I still don’t know wtf that means. Anyway, so he said sweet things, and liked to put his arm around my shoulders, sometimes even rub my shoulders.

One certain rainy afternoon, I am taking a nap like all self-respecting 11 year olds who have very harsh, cruel, tyrants for house helps do when shithead walks into my room. He wakes me up, gives me this whole speech about how I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and how one day he would marry me.

11yroldtrustingantipop: really shithead? You mean that?
Shithead: ofcourse. But you will have to do something for me in return
11yroldtrustingantipop: yes? What?
Shithead: let me have one tiny kiss

I tell you this my brothers and sisters, it is easier for a camel to go through…than describe the grossness of that kiss. Shithead planted his lips on mine, stuck his fat sticky tongue down my throat and proceeded to suck like he was sucking the seeds out of a bad orange. It was gross. It was my first kiss.

And he never married me

indiscriminate(only because i dont want to say random)

2008-07-09T09:28:00.000-07:00

I broke the rules and listened to evening radio. That is because he had nominated me for the impossible task of listening into a show, and calling in to send greetings to him(although i don't know why he would think i would want to send my shoutsout to this individual. word around is that he is off the shelf) Anyway, so i tuned in to Hot 100, and here are some excerpts of what lady bizzle was going on about

on the topic she was discussing; "gimme your take ABOUT the situation"
on a certain request "this one came in from you cheri from grrayaza..."
on who loves her show "i got a call from you arrrba and you said you love..."
on who sung the next song 'this one's coming in from seanah kingstonah...'

Have not combed my hair for two days running. I am doing it for world peace. The problem is, no body has said anything yet. Dont people notice these things anymore? Wait. Let me just ask around real quick

"yo harriet(she's gangsta), how come you have not picked up on the fact that my hair's not been combed for two days now?"
"well antipop, its really hard to tell. Your hair looks like rubbish a lot of the time. Cant know when you are doing it on purpose"

i guess i should devise other means of getting attention.Like take off my top or something. I am really committed to this whole world peace thing.

Some bloggers are blocking posts. Here's my message to them "sharing's caring"

Not that i am skeptical or anything, but i really find it hard to believe when a group called "the killers" is singing and assuring me that "everything will be alright"

Why he did not get into her pants...

2008-07-07T07:53:00.000-07:00

The moment was right. The intensity too strong. They could not hold it any longer.It had to happen any moment now. Then he bent down to slide off her underwear. when she looked down, he was hastily putting his pants back on. “I had never seen anyone dress so fast” she says

Turns out, he is afraid of guns...

the date..the end

2008-07-04T09:00:00.000-07:00

I have decided to put the matter of that date to rest once and for all. After this, I have no more answers to your nagging questions. And for those of you that will not be satisfied by the answers about to follow, you can go make up your own fairytale ending that you can do with as you please. Like tell it to someone who cares for example,maybe make great poetry out of it or turn it into a beer hall song. It’s your choice really.

Scenario 1
I walk over to where the date’s seated, I politely tell the waiter to get out of the way, which he does and I arrive at his table without any major hitch. I am not sure what to do at the time, so I just plonk in the chair opposite him. I extend my hand for a handshake as does he and then he squeezes it hard, hard, hard. I wake up screaming. Bad dream.

Scenario 2
…waiter out of the way, am at the table. He (date, not the waiter) looks up and smiles, stands up and embraces me in a warm hug. I am thinking I could get used to this. Anyway, a conversation ensues. Broke bloke (his coinage) and I are getting along like Paris Hilton and the paparazzi. At the end of the date, I ignored every principle my mum ever taught me about the first date vs. taking off my pants. I let him take me back to his place and we burned a hole in the mattress.

The end

crack is wack

2008-07-02T21:17:00.000-07:00

peeking in, melanie, not much else

2008-06-30T21:33:00.000-07:00

Recheal and Eddie have been married for a while now. Recheal and Eddie are my housemates. Heck, who am i kidding! they took me in when no one wanted me. so anyway, they tend to get to a lot of no good. they have loud conversations on sarturday morning, when all i really want to do is sleep in. I can not tell them to shut up for fear that they will send me packing so when i wake up, i smile sweetly at them when all i really want to do is kick them. Sometime friday evening, a conversation took place.Recheal is bitching about something Eddie did not do for her. Eddie tries to explain shit bla bla bla(this part of the conversation holds no interest for me), so anyway, then Recheal says,

"but eddie you like screwing me..."

me, having very nasty mental images of my sister bent over...

Melanie
For a while now, i had decided to cut that poor, poor blonde some slack and tried to pretend she was not on that morning show that i like to listen to. But there is only so much ignoring one can do. seems like this woman goes dumber by the months. Anyway, today i am listening in and they are doing a press review; some news item about how uganda's inflation had gone up by 12%. at which point she screams out,

"Yay! the economy is growing, the economy is growing..."

so, you know, i think to myself, surely even Melanie's not this retarded and shit so i let it go. But she wouldn't. Meanwhile. Fatboy her co-presenter starts to make sense of the whole inflation thing, but Melanie, not getting it, just continues to say,

"now, the ordinary man may be asking 'how does this(inflation) help me, but i can assure you it is very important..."
Really melanie. Even i survived a re-take in economics by one mark, but surely?

incase anyone was wondering, i have been away tryna heal my broken heart...or legs...

the date...

2008-06-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

...well, i had gone all out on this one. I knew he was a tall bloke so i had pulled a pair of heels out the back of my closet. or out of a box somewhere. So anyway, feeling tall, stomach safely tucked in, all dolled up, I waked over towards where he was seated. I must have not seen the waiter standing in the way, becuase the next thing i know,i had knocked the tray out of his hand and I was falling, falling, falling...

The next time I looked up, my date was gone...

La la la la la la la

2008-06-23T20:52:00.000-07:00

It had all been leading to this. The sms’, the chats, the constant flirting. A date. See, ……. and I had only met once before and exchanged numbers. I wonder why, because we had not seemed to hit it off that one time. We had sat across from each other but had barely exchanged a word, each of us preferring to talk to the people we were more familiar with. But today, it was going to be just him and me.

I was nervous. What if I did not like him? What if he did not like me? What if we only got along perfectly on phone. On the computer. In our heads. I arrived at the venue a lil late. I saw him first. Seated alone, seemingly engrossed with his phone. I stood still, wondering. Wondering what I would say to him. Wondering whether I should start with a joke, whether to shake his hand or whether to reach for the hug, whether he would think that was presumptuous of me. I wondered what he was thinking about. I wondered what I was doing there.

I sucked in my stomach, and walked over towards him…

Trivia

2008-06-18T22:56:00.000-07:00

Social responsibility is when the conductor saves a seat for any woman with a baby during those peak hours when you cant seem to get a seat on any taxi, because you wont do anything as undignified as pushing and shoving to get a seat on the taxi.

Lack of social responsibility is when you have finally managed to get a taxi, say by doing anything undignified like mentioned above and someone is playing his polyphonic Luganda ring tones in succession at the back of the taxi. Far enough for you to be able to snatch his phone and throw it out the window.

How you see a guy you know approaching you from across the street, picking his nose and then he crosses over to where you are and stretches out his hand to greet you. Oh how I long to spit in his mouth.

Amazing how everytime usher opens his mouth I go week at the knees. Or is it when he opens his shirt? Can’t quite tell anymore.

You know how they say accidents just happen? Fuck no they don’t. People let them. Someone leaves a knife carelessly hanging by the sink, it slices your hand, you slap the living daylights out of them. Yea, and then you can tell them your hand accidentally slipped. Oops.

Don’t you just hate how empty ambulances (I know becoz I always peep inside) squeal for you to get out of the way in rush hour? Throw in the police cars as well. Oh and ministers’ cars as well. Damn them all.

This one time just out of campus, this guy calls me and tells me there is an opening, and can I get my papers in order and be at his boss’s office in 30 minutes? My home is like 2 hours from town but I made it there in say 45 minutes. I get to his boss’s office, talk to the guy and 5 minutes into the interview, I realize I am waaaay smarter than him. I politely ask to be excused and go back home to watch intelligent television. True story.

Toilet seat up, toilet seat down…why do people even ask that? If it is down, raise it. And if it is up, just drop it. Afterall the guy that raised it also went through a lot of trouble getting it up there.

A seasoned lifestyle writer for one of the dailies writes a story about the importance and bliss of getting a manicure. Than she ends her article thus; “after the experience, I walked out of the salon with well manicured nails.” Shocking!

Finally realizing that putting “cleaning out my closet” on auto repeat and listening in the whole day is a wee bit weird.

That it is physically impossible to make my bed everyday.

They say you can only move as fast as who is in front of you. Heck no. You shove them out of the way and jog if you so desire. Or crawl.

Bymark-

2008-06-16T05:02:00.000-07:00

“I would make a better president than Museveni.” I cannot tell you how many times I heard that growing up. But what I can tell you, is how happy it made me feel everytime I heard it. Any man who claimed he could be better than the ruler of this land, was to me a great man. His name was Bymark. Bymark was my dad.

Sometimes I catch my mother looking at me (I have come to understand that it is coz I remind her of dad), sometimes longingly, sometimes with anger. I guess from all those times he hurt her. From all the times he was never there. For all those times he was with other women. And sometimes in her distracted trance she will say to me “go away Bymark.” My mum is not senile. I just look like my dad. In some angles (whatever that means). And sometimes my mum says it is the way I talk. “In the same proud way that Bymark used to talk” she describes it.

But this is not about my mother. It is about my father. It is that I will never talk to him again. Have him hold my hand crossing the road even if I was a big girl and it embarrassed me terribly. He will never say to me “antipop, come here. We need to talk,” in a tone that only suggested I was in big trouble. He will never creep up on me (I let him believe it was always a surprise) and tickle me. He will never play any fools day pranks on me. And my other siblings. I tend to get carried away. To think that him and I are the only people that existed, in the whole world. Our world. Really I have siblings. I just love to hog him. Fuck it, I love him.

1st April 1995, my dad woke my sister and I at 5:30am and told us that he had asked his workmate to bring us milk as he had forgotten to buy it the day before, so to go wait for him outside the gate. Well, I had just wet my bed (shocking!) and I was glad to get out of there, but my sister was not too happy. Anyway, armed with jackets and blankets, we camped outside the gate and waited. 7:30am or there abouts, a pissed off Susan (my sis, RIP) tells me to go tell dad we were tired of waiting and could we come back to bed? So I go, knock at his door, relay the message and to my surprise he bursts out laughing and then said he could not believe we had been out there the whole time. He asks Susan and I to go pick the calendar and read out loud what it said on the date. Susan failed to get the joke and did not talk to my dad for like a week. I thought his punch line was just too damn good. I still laugh about it every time.

Anyway, this was about honoring my father. Who raised me as a single dad (well, he had a string of girlfriends.) Talked to me about periods (sic), about boys (threatened really) taught me to do crossword puzzles, cheated every time we played monopoly, and found it funny that I could not pronounce the word ‘ratio’ [rah-tea-oh]. That dad, who I miss. Who I never got to tell about my first period, about discovering boys and the losers they turned out to be, who never saw me graduate, who cant see me now. Well, I know it is a long shot but if u somehow negotiated your way into heaven dad, I trust u had a happy father’s day. Because I was thinking of you.

What have I become?

2008-06-13T06:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I witnessed an accident. It was fatal. That was not the shocker. Infact there was nothing shocking about it all until much later as I lay in my bed pondering the day’s events. I remembered what the cup (giant size) of coffee I’d had that morning had tasted like. How I’d almost gotten up from my desk to add a little bit more sugar, but how I’d gotten lazy and decided to have it bitter. How I’d gotten to the end and realized I had forgotten to stir the coffee and the sugar had settled at the bottom of the cup.

I thought how happy I had been when my friend had walked in the office, and how in just a few moments we had gone from being friends for ever to having one of those thoughtless fights that only people who cared about each other had. How I had snatched the movies that she had just taken out of my bag back to spite her. And even then, I thought about how it was not all my fault.

I fast-forwarded to the end of the day when I had met this guy and we had laughed and joked and teased and got happy. I remembered walking out of his office with him to take a stroll along Kampala road towards the park, still teasing, laughing and having a grand old time. I remembered when we saw it. A man lying in the street, motionless, blood oozing from his head, his walking stick, that he had all his life laboriously used to get from one place to another a few meters away, out of his reach even if he could stretch his arms and grab it. He looked dead. The car that had hit him, not in sight.

I remember feeling no emotion. Not anger, not pity, not compassion, empathy, fear, or even happiness. There was nothing in my heart. I remember people gathering around, trying not to miss out on the scandal. Some even prodding and tossing him sideways to see whether he was still breathing. He was, but barely and in a few minutes, it would not be for long. None of them doing much else to help him. Me, rushing the few meters left to join these people, all the while still teasing, joking and smiling about life. A life that this man no longer had. A crowd had gathered, I could no longer get a clear view.

I reach under the pillow and retrieve a handkerchief to blow my nose, now coming back to and realizing that my nose has been running unchecked from the cold that has plagued me for days now. I wipe the snot in a trance and my mind wanders back to the day’s events.

I remember inching closer, trying to make my way through the crowd, reaching for my phone- no, not to call the police, or for an ambulance or ask for any kind of help. I am reaching for my phone and trying to get a strategic place where I could get a clear picture. All the while this guy and I joking about whether my phone had good enough zoom for me to take the picture from wherever I was standing. I remember being frustrated that motorists had ignored the incidence and kept going by and yet I wanted to take a picture. I remember putting my phone back in the pocked and walking away unfazed, just disappointed that I had not gotten the story. Especially the picture to tell it all. So I walked on, him, and me still joking, teasing and laughing. We went to the post office, laughed at a funny postcard, took pictures of it before mailing it and walked on still laughing, our jokes endless.

I remember bidding him farewell, getting in a taxi, getting home, and eventually to where I was then. Warm in the comfort of my bed, a dead man already forgotten. But not for long. Somehow he had come to bed with me. Forcing me to think about him. To think about why I had not felt anything for him. Why I had stood there and not tried to help. Forcing me to examine who I had become, why I had become this way. A cold, heartless, cynical bitch.

I threw back the covers and reached for the mirror that sat on my dresser. I stared long and hard and did not like what was looking back at me. Blank emotionless eyes looked back, mouth set in a stubborn resolve as if to say, “don’t you dare judge me.” I quickly drew the mirror back. I could not take the disgrace of looking at myself anymore. That is when I knelt down and prayed. For someone, anyone that was listening to make me better. I did not want to be that person anymore. I was tired of this whole tough girl act I’d been putting up. Then the tears began to fall. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like a person. It felt good.

loser's got no love for me

2008-06-11T21:43:00.000-07:00

Okay so questions have been thrown at me, like how come i end up with the losers? If i have become such an expert, why dont i spot them a mile away? Am i a loser magnet? And this once even a bold statement "antipop, you probably are the loser." So i went back home, pondered this allegation and this is what i came up with. I am not a loser. And in the wise words of Forest Gump, that is all i will say about that.

But what i wanted to talk about is this loser that has no love for me. I mean if a gal cant get any loving from a loser, what has she got left? So anyway, this here loser, i have some fondness for, as i had said way back(something to do with cheap pizza). We have never technically broken up with loserboy and y'all know how that can be. You get to hook up every so often, flirt mercilessly, basically break the rules of dating. Every one of them. I have not gotten to do these things because he went away, but we do get to chat every so often on messenger(bless you yahoo)

So we chat about nonsence, then marriage, then girls with long legs, where upon i make up stories about boys with abs and tight butts, and then we come back to us, and then marriage. Only because we both know i would never be caught dead walking down the isle towards him and he would never be caught alive waiting down the isle. For me.

Anyway, recently in one of those chatting sessions,i taunt him about US, at which point he takes the opportunity to begin flirting. A few blissful moments of sweet nothings later, i drop this question;

Me: Do you love me?
Loserboy: I love that song

2008-06-09T21:38:00.000-07:00

milk? gas? or dangerous fresian petrol?

Cheesy, corny, tacky, phony, tasteless

2008-06-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

This whole tagging thing was kinda cute when it started (wonder when that was). And funny even, but it has soooo gotten out of hand. It has become and sounds so much like spam mail or sms, the way they tell you to tag 8 other people or is it 567? It kinda takes me back to my bulk folder in my yahoomail, of someone trying to sell me viagra, telling me big is better, or when she saw ‘it’ she wept, or this rather disgusting one, ‘it’ was soooo big, ‘it’ tore her mouth.

It started out as six things that people did not know about you. Then four things about four different topics, then it was four things about carte blanche topics, now, it is eight things about Lord knows how many other things. Please people, blogger is this cool place I come to escape, but I think certain bloggers are inventing ways of annoying me and robbing me of this serenity and even sanity I find here. Do not spoil it for me. Yes. I am QOFE. Queen Of Fucking Everything.

loser crybaby II

2008-06-02T01:06:00.000-07:00

... the calls, the un announced visits, sometimes even to my bathroom, were very honesly begining to worry me. scare me even

But that was nothing compared to the day i pressed the hello button to sobbing and wailing at the other end of the line. So i do my part and try to calm loser down and get to the bottom of what he is going on about.

Turns out, i had not picked his calls for two days now. Infact, even when he had hidden caller I.D, i had somehow suspected that he was the one calling and had refused to pick. Fine, i have been known to have bionic powers sometimes(like that one time my tummy hurt sooo bad and i predicted that my period was coming. And sure enough, 3 hours later, there it was) but even i could not have guessed who was on the other end of the line if caller I.D read "no number."

So i let him rumble on and on about how bad and mean i was, all the while hopping that he would shut up and just let me be. it is bad enough having a stalker, but a crying stalker just down right freaks your freak. By now crybaby has stopped wailing lng enough to tell me that he is sick, and he will only get better if i go over and see him. I hear i am what the doctor prescribed. This was sounding all cheesy and tacky and quite frankly, nauseating. So i fake poor network, hung up and continue with my afternoon nap.

About an hour later, there is a loud pounding at the gate that announces an uninvited visitor gutsy enough to interrupt my siesta. I tell the house help to tell whoever it was that i was sleeping not to disturb me, at which point he returns to tell me that the guest had said he was sure i wanted to see him. This visit ended with me denying duncan a glass of water, shooing him out the gate and telling him to please call the next time he was coming to visit.

I have not had that many regrets in life, mainly because my life has been one big regret, i have not stopped to think, but i tell you i was regretting why i had invited pretty boy into my life. He was sucking the life out me this one was.

Dont you just hate when people refuse to take offense? You would think that pretty boy would be insulted at the way i had treated him, but the calls did not stop coming, he did not stop dropping the 'L' word(no phoebe, not lesbian)and never gave up waiting for me at the stage at the end of the day. And i did not have the heart to tell him to stop, i guess because i was not ready for another round of tears.

But they did come. Without any spurring. When one day, he dropped me at the gate, and before i slapped the door shut in his face, told me he loved me and got no response from me.

"why dont you love me antipop? why do i always tell you i love you and you do not tell me you love me back? why are you taking me for granted? why do you hurt me so? you are bad antipop. you are bad. you will never find a man who will love you as much as i can..." and he burst out crying. and i shut the door and walked very very fast to the house.

First of all, i did not ask him to love me. And there was no rule in any book that said i had to love him back. none that said i could not take him for granted. i mean, he was easy bait. And about hurting him, that was stretching it alittle. Because i had not really tried. He was damn right i did not want a man who would love me the way he did. I had had it.

That night, i composed a nice message, told him he was a nice guy and all, would find a beautiful girl that loved him the way he deserved, threw in the bit that he was a little too childish for me and wished him well.

Then he wrote back;

"what? who do you think you are? how dare you dump me you as***le? you have not heard the last of me. i will get back. infact, the next time i see you walking around, i will knock you down..." Phfffffftt. I am supposed to be spooked by a little boy who cries over girls? I was not.

That was over 2 months ago. He beeps me everyday. And i am happy to report that there has been no hit and run incident in my neighbourhood.

jesus,mary and that lousy joseph

2008-05-29T20:58:00.000-07:00

i am soooooo freakin pissed. actually, thats all.
i feel good already
sorry

Overrated

2008-05-20T21:07:00.000-07:00

lists are in these days, so i kind of thought it would be cool to have one of my own. listing the things that people fuss over.

Roses. they wither. they are thorny. and lets be honest, they dont smell nice. except that one time i sprayed my valentine's day flower with perfume.

Pizza- the crust is tasteless. it is rough. i know that curtesy of the bruises on the roof of my mouth everytime i eat pizza. and it does not taste that good either. plus, none of the diet schedules i have read( as if)say yes to pizza.(okay maybe this is bordering on anorexia)

Juno- he recommended it. she swore it was the coolest thing ever. i lost sleep over the fact that none of my movie friends had a copy to share. until i bought it. it is just another movie.

Black forest- cake. i love cake. and some of my friends know this. one day one of them brought over what she described as pastry heaven. i was not impressed. no gerry, black forest is not the best cake kown to man.

Getting hammered. let me count the ways. there is the purging, the staggering, the loss of self control, the bad breath, then the oh so glorious morning after. getting drunk does not take you to cloud nine i have discovered.

Coffee dates-pretentious.

Bakiga strength- i got my ass kicked all the time by the tiniest kids in school. once i went out to prove my mukiga prowess, even got a couple of kids to chant my tribe to intimidate the opposition. i have a nasty scar on my back to prove that bakiga are mortals. weak mortals.

Peep toes- they hurt my feet.

Virginity- i would have thought HE would bring out the champagne to toast to the virginity popping ceremony. he didnt. he just stunk of beer. and the following day, i was limping. and the day after, i was back to normal. no crowds on the street chanting and throwing stones at me. life was good again.

Obama. so he is black. him and millions other people. he is a politician. him and odonga otto. he has a vision for change. him and besigye both. whats the fuss?

Toblerone- it costs 5 times my usual cadbury's crunch chocolate. my cadbury's tastes 5 times better.

Introducing cry-baby loser part1

2008-05-16T05:34:00.000-07:00

How I met loser
Rush hour is everyone’s nightmare, but I imagine it is a little easier for those that have cars. I mean, sitting in your car in traffic jam, listening to drive time FM shows presented by dj’s with phony accents beats having to tussle for a taxi hours on end after a long day at work or wherever. So you can imagine what a breath of fresh air it must have been for me to get to my taxi stage and there is this cuuute guy waiting just nearby and making eyes at me. I feigned disinterest, and continued nodding my head to the heavy metal beats in my ear, but really, I could have hugged myself right then.

Anyway, so a fleet of cars came and I found that could not muscle my way through the throng to get space in the 14 seater. Now normally I am aggressive and will normally push everyone out of the way, but I could not very well do it what with cuteness watching and all. And then he did something honorable. When the next taxi came, he pushed everyone to one side, ignored everyone else’s sneers, and beckoned me to enter. And a hero was born.

I felt obliged to book him a seat right next to me, we exchanged names, (me a phony one), we shared my earphones, swapped phone numbers, and the rest as they say is history. Okay so there is no history really, but you get. At first it was exciting having all this attention from a hot guy. I interpreted the constant phone calls as concern and shit but it got quite tiring having to answer for my every waking, and sometimes sleeping minute. I almost carried a recorder to bed just so I would know exactly what I had gotten up to while I slept incase he queried about that (okay so maybe I am exaggerating a little).

He wanted to see me all the time, to come to my work place all the time, and after work, he would be waiting to go home together. But what really creeped me out is, after a week of escorting me home, he decided to christen me. He said my name-Rachael (the phony one I had supplied) was ordinary and he wanted to call me something fabulous. So I said to go ahead, and then he said,
“You shall be called……”(him, pausing for effect) (me, thinking get it over with loser)

“… Duncan”. His name. I was at this point looking out for any sign that he had maybe manufactured a rare joke, but waa! He was dead serious. That is when I almost ran. Almost. But I stayed and decided to own up that Rachael was indeed not my real name and that my real name was antipop, at which point he proceeded to trash my real awesome name to nothing-ness. He insisted that Duncan sounded way cooler and I was baptized.
The guy was sweating me. But I played along for about a month. Afterall, it is every girl’s dream to have a guy at her beck and call. This was my toy boy, and I was determined to milk the experience… Until the tears started to flow…

Part two coming up soon.

when loyalty saved the day

2008-05-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

It didnt. It didnt come running with arms wide open, to thank me for a job well done. And it was. instead it looked me in the eye and told me i had not given my all. That i needed to put in more time. To invest some more in it, loyalty. to give and give and give. And if i had no more to give, loyalty said, it could easily find another sycophant. Yes, jack was going to find another jill to go up the hill with.

Loyalty had left me for dead. I turned one cheek and it asked me to turn the other. Yes,the day i waited for loyalty to put food on my table, i went hungry. To put clothes on my back, i went topless. To put shoes on my feet, i got blisters. Loyalty didnt have cash. It didnt have food stamps, Didnt have any old clothes to give, no crumbs fell from its table. It had promises. And i was getting weary. Screw loyalty. I want to live.

being a fanatic

2008-05-11T21:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a good day and to prove it, i hav a sore throat.
Okay so i am not your everyday screaming, statistic and odds calculative footaball fan, but i am a fan. i am a fan in a way that i know the hottest players on a team and i am always inclined to the team that has the hottest of the hot. I choose manchester united. and it won some silver ware or other.

Now normally, if the game is not showing on my local tv, i can not be bothered to go looking for it, but not yesterday. it was afterall the season finale, and trophy decider for that matter. so, clad in my tomboy jeans and baggy shirt to hide the breasts, i went to a local bar, paid shs500 to the bouncer at the gate and on i went.

I almost ran back to the safety of my UTV as soon as i entered.turns out, the t-shirt did not do much in the disguise department, so it was clear to all that i was a gal, and it was clear to me that they were all skunky horny losers as they leered and teased and grabbed before i got to a safe spot at the bar.

I sat near this guy who promised me that he was going to be the best boyfriend i had ever known, but cockiness is not what was wrong with this one. He kept farting all the time or when he was not farting, he would open his mouth to talk to me and i would pull away as the hot smelly air hit my face. But even then, the smell of the fart was drowned out by the stench of all else around. boys, water is not the enemy.needless to say, i walked out of there smelling some kind of funk that i can not describe.

But i learnt one thing during the match. That Rio Ferdinand is WELL endowed.

surprise!!!!!!!!!!!

2008-05-01T22:43:00.001-07:00

I was not going to let moron spoil it for me. I had already planned a surprise party and i was determined that there would be one. so i linked up with two of phoebe's other girlfriends and we came up with plan B. So we put operation surprise phoebe in motion.

Party was at shangai restaurant, almost everyone that was invited showed up. Late, but they showed up. And thankfully, phoebe also showed up, despite an earlier scare that she would not be able to make it, because she was doing her laundry.Till like 6:30pm. And the party was slated for 6:00pm. So as usual, the party started atleast 2 hours late.

Apparently she hates surprises, so she came in and pronounced death and hate on all of us who had planned it. that is her looking at us menacingly, at the head of the table. We were not cowed in any way, and the party had to go on.

That is her nolonger mad at the cruel world that planned a party for her, in a compromising pose with another gal. It is compromising, no? am I reading too much in the pic then? The light in the back is a TV. With Whitney Houston karaoke playing. What? Don’t you all judge me. Atleast it was better than a quiet room.

This is the cake that brought phoebe to tears. I am glad I am not the only one that cried about this party thing.

That is the guy that utilized the teary moment to feel her up, pretending to console her. But we all saw through that.

forgive the poor quality pictures, but that is all i could squeeze out of my nokia.
That chinese food is not doing me good today. I find that i have to make a run for the bathroom every so often to fart. I am about to just start sliding them past at my desk. My legs are tired of moving...

Also, i hav not yet figured out what to do with moses, who by the way i invited to the new surprise party last minute, just so he does not out me again.

Fuck-face here

2008-04-29T03:07:00.000-07:00

Now, I am never going to win a Nobel for good language. But I also do not dispense it where it is not warranted. And that is like once a year. But not this year. Just today alone, I have let my tongue loose like a million times already. Well, mostly in my head really. And who has brung this on, you may ask? It is some moron called Moses

One of my workmates is going away to study in Europe (you would think I am so totally jealous but I swear I am not.) and I thought it would be nice to do something awesome for her. I mean she can be a bum sometimes, like the other day when she outed me to the boss, but do I hold grudges? No. So my sweet awesome ass decided to throw her a surprise party. Since I could not do it by my not so broke self, I figured I could solicit around from all the guys that lounge at the workplace, and that are always smiling at her (they have to pay for something, no?). Which is how I composed this mail and sent it to the relevant guys. And some gals.

greetings y'all,
you are invited to phoebe's SURPRISE farewell party on saturday 3rd. may at club sway.
nothing fancy. No need to borrow clothes.
now, what is a party without contributions?
consider this a fundraiser mail
pitch in wherever you can. all of you.
kindly RSVP by end of day to help me plan.

Antipop

PS. need I remind you to keep your mouths shut around phoebe?

Simple enough English if you ask me. Enter moron aka Moses, who happens to sit in the same area that most of us sit, including the subject of the surprise party thing. Opens mail, before he reads anything, says,

"Antipop, what is this mail all about? Whose farewell?"
I totally ignore him, hoping he will read on further and shut his mouth. He reads on and then shouts;
Phoebe, when is this party?
Phoebe, confused, looks around so moron, sori, moses goes on,
“Your farewell party I mean. This one at sway, when is is? If it is on sarturday pliz count me out. I will not be able to make it”
By now, everyone is laughing, and the joke is on me.

I do not have many tear jerking moments. I do not cry when I see babies. Quite frankly, they all look like ugly imps, and unless I am crying at just how ugly a human being can look, I don’t cry at all. I don’t cry when I see animals being mistreated. They are animals. And I eat them for crying out loud. The other day, everyone in the car I was in broke down to tears when they saw a dog, lick another’s wounds after it had been knocked down on a highway. I did not cry. I did not cry when I watched titanic, I did not cry when I broke up with a loser I liked, I did not cry when the queen waved at me on Kampala road. I don’t cry. But this made me cry. Moses made me cry. He brought me to tears. And I will make him pay. I don’t know how, but he will pay. This I promise you.

Y’all were fabulous

2008-04-25T05:14:00.000-07:00

First, I thought I could just be there in a sort of undercover way, observe, then come and hate on my blog. But this is not possible with this group. They have a way of grilling even the most private secrets out of you. Which is how my identity was coaxed out of me. Oh crap. Who am I kidding? All they had to do was ask twice and I was ready to spill all. Who I was, what I was doing there, and what I was planning to do with the information I had uncovered.

They told me about my e-feud between her, and myself that everyone saw right through the minute that post went up. I bet coz it was not as sizzling as magoo and cheri’s. They accused me of trying to make kalango(detamble, this means advert) for her, but really all I wanted was for y’all to see that while I am busy minding my business, wasting office time blogging, another blogger was singing my hymns-some, not really flattering.

We talked about those bloggers that failed to turn up. We talked about you, you and you. You will never know whether we said good things about you, or were just plain mean to you. Although I would not put the latter past the bunch I met yesterday. There was never a dull moment.

kissyfur, you were the only one I could readily identify. Coz of the picture on your profile. I am sorry I was not everything you expected me to be. I hear this fabulous, tall skinny chick with a “don’t even think about it” attitude, only to be presented by a midget shock that was me.

edmo, why were you guarded? What were you hiding from us? The arms folded across your chest body language you had going spoke a tale of its own.

ivan, I will hold you to your word and wait for your call next Thursday for rock night. And if you do not call, I will post your mobile number for all to see. And then my friend you shall experience the power of real stalkers. Yes I am capable of underhand antics to get my way.

tumwi, if I was not busy star gazing, I would have been able to make out your beautiful eyes, I would have admired your Bata shoes more, I would have applauded you for keeping conversation going with everyone, I would have had something to say about that head scarf, but I couldn’t. I kept going back to your posts, and thinking, I am actuali looking at her…

Darlkom, I almost robbed your phone. Not because it was fabulous(and it was) but because you had awesome music. and i kept wanting to bring up your phone alarm post, but never got round to it.

27th, you looked like nothing I had envisioned.You have beautiful hair. And that is all you will get out of me.

carlo, you are pretty. Yes. pretty beautiful and pretty reserved. But your smile lit up the table. Are you posting any of those pictures you took?

littlejars, thanx for bailing me out. For lending me money to buy drinks just so that I fit in. my only regret is that you coerced me into buying you coffee. I never buy coffee. I hate the pretentiousness of it all. Those little mugs they serve it in. I hate it. I was happy when you said that you did not enjoy it. Next time please, stick to black ice. dunno when i will get round to paying you. wait, i already paid.

duksey, I would not have made it there without you. Ok maybe I would have, but you made the journey much more easier in your tiny wheels. If only you all had shut up on the way there, I would have had a much funner (I invented it) time arriving there.

lulu, what a beautiful smile you have.

It was my firsties at BHH. It was such fun, I forgot about that trip to Madagascar that she said we would discuss. Anyone went home with the tickets?

roving eye

2008-04-22T21:16:00.000-07:00

here is what i have captured.

my local bank's robbing me, and making me look stupid while doing it. last week, i got this note from the ATM, now this note is so old, no one wants to take it off my hands. the other day, i bought airtime, loaded it on my phone before i paid. so i give the man this note, and swear on my life that that is the only money i had on me. he grabbed my bag and threatened to take my phone if i did not come up wit newer money. i relented.

some of the ingredients that make up a trash can. not mine.

in the girl world, this is a no no. no two girls should be caught alive at the same function in the same dress.

some of my favourite people at the moment. my favourite people tend to vary a lot. so enjoy it while it lasts.

clearly, a family that has given up. it is the end of April but the calender at home's still turned at january, since that january day when the neighbour gave it to us.

these legs, the writer feels, should have their moment in the spotlight. or in any light for that matter.

a call to boycott-anyone join me?

2008-04-18T08:12:00.000-07:00

it is my humble plea that ya'll join me to boycott this blogettess. she has said some mean mean things about me. i ask all of you not to believe a word she says. exceptin maybe just the title of the post.

also, i know that i have been tagged by some people.(well, after constant bickering and bitching)so technically i owe y'all a post about those taggy taggy questions. but i will not deliver. because reali, i secretly hate being tagged. no offence detamble. it takes me back to spam mail because of the whole tag four other people or whatever. so i am un tagging myself. but i love to read the rest of your tag things. cant post anything now. dying to pee, and by the time i return, i will hav gotten writer's bloc.

myself,office conspiracy, east african idols,

2008-04-08T00:57:00.000-07:00

My office thought long and hard and figured that putting a stop to the flow of creative juices among its staff was the best way to increase their bank balance. And how did they go about doing that? Looks like the boss had a word with some guy from the IT department (the most incompetent I must add) and decided to block our blogger and facebook accounts. It is called webscensing!!! So every time I try to access my blog, I get a rude feedback telling me that it is filtered or nonsense along those lines. It has been a frustrating time no end.

Therefore since I could not blog, I had to find other means of entertainment outside free Internet at work. Now, I am a sucker for reality shows, if for nothing else, just to scoff at the lack of reality in the show. Yes, am the girl that sits through project fame, project runway, idols, big brother, the apprentice, top chef and my all time favorite, beauty and the geek and wonder how someone can keep a smile pasted on their faces for that long without cracking around the lips, or musing at how really easy it is to manufacture tears.

Anyway, so this is how I know that Idols East Africa has started. And like everything else we try to steal from the west, we just never manage to pull it off. Take apprentice Africa for example. Anyone seen that show? Neither did I. It put me to sleep instantly. Now, Idols East Africa. To begin with, the judges are the stereotypical 2 male and one female American Idol judges. A fat (ish) easy going version of Randy, a pretty senseless Paula wannabe complete with the fake endearments, and then a corky rapper supposed to be Simon Cowell. But what these judges have in common is this; they cannot see talent if it slapped them in the face- which is what I hopped someone would do before auditions were through.

But it was the contestants that I loved best. This one girl (lost sheep)walks on to the stage clearly looking like she has no business being there. But, this is a show that gives everyone chances so no one was going to deny this poor gal her time in the limelight.

Phony judge1: so what do you have for us today?
Lost sheep: (mouth open) huh?
Phony judge3: (rather impatiently) wha’rrrr you gonna sing forrrrus?
Lost sheep: eeeeh. I want to sing “noah” by “shakeez”
Phony judges all together: which one?
Lost sheep: “noah” by “shakeez”

The judges, all nodding, but obviously not comprehending, urge her on. Lost sheep opens her mouth and belts out, “no one” by “Alicia keys”