tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10026129813500990342024-03-20T23:19:55.677-07:00as told by Bobby 2...invite-only, referred guests maybe; Definitely not welcoming everyoneBobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-837733388591651282012-09-05T10:39:00.001-07:002012-09-05T10:39:26.450-07:00Dear miss nkT <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">I've done enough come on. I've done enough, am tired. Aren't you? Am I going to start all over again, like today didn't happen, like the day before today didn't happen, and the day before before the day before last fuckn year. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>Am tired. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I wish I had the courage to tell you exactly I feel right now, a minute of care and hate. Hate and nice feelings. But that's not logical. If I start telling you exactly what I feel right now. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You'd start thinking. He is horny. Wrong?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Your start thinking. He is having a bad day?</div><div><br />
</div><div>You will start thinking, maybe he is having a bad day. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You are wrong, I don't drink that much. I don't have bad days that easily. I don't get pissed of that easy. Probably what I feel girl is the result of entertaining a lot of bullshit for a while.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's time I vomited all the shit you've been feeding me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Since when I kept running my fuel tank dry trying to reach you and hug you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe I have gotten tired of you not carrying jerk about me. It's all about You, You, You. Do you see how it's all about you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>To find out what I want, what I like, you look at yourself. Dear, how the f do you think you will find answers about me by looking at yourself. Are you kidding me?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Come on, even a good friend knows that they have to be around there friends long enough, often enough, for them to know them. To know what would be a perfect birthday present for them.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why are you taking a short cut.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why are you looking at the mirror looking for me. Am across the f table. Am the guy who ruined his loafers looking for you lost in the streets. Those shoes don't like rain!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why are you looking at the mirror, you will not find me there. Am across the table, my hair is wet, I've been rained on, trying to reach you. My cell phone battery is weak, endless missed calls and text on your cell.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why am I the one to f start all conversations. I break the ice one more time, and it's your phone I will break instead.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I shouldn't break your phone. Cause most things we do when we are emotional are bad decisions. But I could break up that piece of shit you keep typing on, talking on the phone with and buy you another f better one! But I don't. Cause that's arrogance.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So I will let you get into my car, with your long hair, covering your ears. So that when I say Hi.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And you reply, Hello.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I will not notice that the first person you talk to when I pick you up is your phone. But it's cool. Am a guy. Am supposed to be easy woth this. Am not supposed to bitch, cause its not manly. Besides, bitch is a female dog. And lionesses are more powerful than lions when they have calves. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Am good. Am not going to bitch, infact, am going to act like I don't feel jerk.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And this is the fun part.</div><div><br />
</div><div>To make all this pain go away, I will change myself. I will become the biggest jerk you and every other woman in the world will ever get to know. I will never be on time, I will cancel appointments when I feel like, I will write post, leave them in the middle, I will write something about you, and somewhere in the middle I will make it about another woman, or a cow., giraffe, depending on my fuckn mood.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why? Cause you f don't know how to be a good friend, you f don't know how to be a darling, you are so f fool of yourself. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I am never nice to you, expecting you to be nice to me. In fact even after this, I will still be a nice guy, cause I don't think you are worth changing myself for you. I will snap a little bit, then go back to my usual self, cause you aren't the one who is going to make me a grumpy old piece of...</div><div><br />
</div><div>I am not being nice to you, cause I want you to reciprocate. But am being nice to you cause my heart was built like that, to love, to care, it was made with sugar, spice and every f thing nice, and am not going to ruin it cause you f look at your mirrior to try to find out about me!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyways... I know as much as I try to fight this, somewhere deep inside me I know, the way you treated me will affect me, I might become colder, I might become meaner, I will try not to, i will try not to do that, I will try not to build up a wall around myself. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But regardless, f you!</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-67696881023571497072012-09-05T09:55:00.000-07:002012-09-05T09:55:57.580-07:00(You don't comment enough, I don't edit. Fair) Rugby <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">First of all, this is dedicated to those women who...hey, I made it! Look at me now! In your face.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>Moving on.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's Saturday. There are billboards on the road, it's rugby season. Simply means its a re-union of some sort. </div><div><br />
</div><div>There are cops at the entrance, the security check is thorough, big car, s,all car no discrimination. Vitz, Range Rover, zote zinafunguliwa boot.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I drive in. It's more flooded than I expected. I guess the entertainment industry in Kenya is growing.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I find a parking that directly faces the field. The guys playing are running around the field like animals. That's what they are, animals. I don't think rugby is civilized, for that matter nobody thinks rugby is civilized, it's primal, it's a jungle in there. I wonder why I park facing the field, maybe so that I look like am actually watching the game, or maybe its because my girlfriend parked her navy blue Mercedes next to my car. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyways we have fun, she leaves. And I have some other people in the car. It's dark already, some guy on the speaker has asked under 18's to leave. So I figure the party will turn a little more wild.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Earlier in the afternoon what dotted the floor was, dry grass, now it's wet. We had Dasani bottles and soda, now we have condom wrappers and half squashed cans of alcohol. Lots of mad. Lots of mad. </div><div><br />
</div><div>People are crossing half way across the field. The party seems to be at the parking lot. Music is loud, there is an improvised stage, and the women are looking fly. The one inside the car. But the gentlemen in my car want other women, not the ones in the car.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So I let my friend take the wheel cause he has always wanted to drive this. He takes out his wallet puts it on the gear dash.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"weka hapa a few thousand bobs, we bet. Am going to get one phone number, today am Cupid."</div><div><br />
</div><div>We laugh. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"ahhh wewe hauwezi you've always said that and lost"</div><div><br />
</div><div>I get support from the people in the back seat. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"let's just park and chill."</div><div><br />
</div><div>He decides to be the sturbon guy he usually is. I at least play some Drake loud, I hand everyone a drink. He starts to drive in circles around, but it becomes fun.</div><div><br />
</div><div>He finally parks infront of a pick up. One of those hardbody Nissans, the ones they call Atoti. </div><div><br />
</div><div>He has decided it is that girl ahead.</div><div><br />
</div><div>He opens the door.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Is he really leaving.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"twende, twende, twende... Aaaaaaweeeeeee"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Guys from the back seat changia</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I don't want him to go. He will make fool out of himself, and if his night gets spoilt all of ours will. Besides its contagious.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He tries to step out. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I grab his hand.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"c you wait and first of all get to know something about her."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"no, if I wait. I will over think, then I will freak out and not walk up there"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He tries to break his arm off my hand. And worse still my friends at the back seat are cheering that I let him go. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He walks out. And just when he gets next to the girl. A guy hugs her, then cages her between his right and left hand, his body and the car. She smiles. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">My pal walks straight ahead like he had no intention. He takes a trip round, then comes back unexpectedly using another route to the car.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"ahhhh pole jamaa."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">We all laugh. I can't believe the bustard was still determined to go round again. We go round again, this time, I decide no matter what, am going to support him. Come on, I don't want him to make a fool out of himself, it reflects badly on me. We pals.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"park here"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I insist. I insist cause it's the routes that connects the club house to the stage. So everyone is going to walk from the stage from entertainment to the bar to get a drink or a soda. Human traffic is good. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"why here?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"just park here."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">So we just park here and wait. There is no one here! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And just when he decided to move, people started crossing in front he car. He saw someone he thought he might like. She was in a pink jacket, and black other things. There were to chics.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I nudge him. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"go, go, go now!"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"those two?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"yes, go go now, so that they see you get out of the car."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"...ask them where they got the drinks."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He walked out. He started talking to them at the corner, so that we couldn't see what happened. And we all thought we were going to see a movie. Typical man.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He came back too soon. Half happy, half sad.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"did you tell them they looked pretty?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"did you?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"wewe ni nini? What makes you think it didn't go on well?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"yu told them they were beautiful"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He smiled to shield his sad face. We laughed at him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"you never tell a beautiful woman she is beautiful as you first words to her, at least not in this situation."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He kept arguing he was being real. And I kept on telling him that if everyone said everything he wouldn't for he be taking that beer, cause its bad for his liver. I tried to explain why telling a beautiful woman she is beautiful usually makes her 'protect herself from getting hit on'. He kept telling me that's how he met his ex. I tried to tell him that was one isolated incidence, he kept on objecting. Ego.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">But I know he listened.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">We parked at another spot. Guys had already gotten bored, so the back seat was left empty except for a pink scarf. It was just him and I. He felt less prideful, he could listen to me now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"so now..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Just watch, for five minutes.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">The girl in the white shorts and black tights inside. She must be with the hot girl in a dress shaking next to her. They are together cause they are keeping close to each other and not to anyone else. The girl in the white shorts keeps looking at her surrounding, so probably she is bored, she is looking around for entertainment, she might not know it or she might know it. Her friend the one you will go steal her seat is having fun, no one around her has said hi to her or anything, so probably the two of them are alone. Go take her seat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And when you take her seat, try argue, try negotiate with her. Don't tell her she is pretty. Just engage her in some conversation relating to the seat, or the game, rain, anything. Cool?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"aren't I over thinking?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"trust me."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I pushed him out of the car, and took the drivers seat. I wasn't going to take any of this nonsense of driving around.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He did well. He touched the seat. And hot girl stopped dancing. (by dancing, I mean shaking her hips) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I bet she was telling him he coudnt have the seat. And I bet he was telling her to be fair, that she wasn't even using it. I was proud, at least they were talking, she was so engaged in the conversation about the seat she didn't notice he was a guy trying to hit on her.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He back to the car too soon.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"what happened?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"Bob, you are a genius!"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I smiled. He was excited. I could tell. It was as if he had been performing on stage with a hundred thousand people. He felt invisible.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"so, what happened?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"I run out of conversation..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"can I drive away?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">He was so happy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"drive away."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I starts to drive towards the stage where the rest were. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"why are you so happy then?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"I just know, if i had known how to carry on talking to her, I would have found a way of letting her know she is beautiful, that she would be lucky to give me her number"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"ati... She would be lucky to give you her number"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Ego msee.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"but the thing is that, she talked to me mazee, that's never happened like that"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"and your ex?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"wewe wacha hizo, just drive the car Bob, ama unatakanikusaidie"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">The night went well. Until, the same girl came to him and asked us to drive to her friends car. Apparently it had run out of battery, and they needed a good Samaritan to jump start. We were the good Samaritans. And he took it away from her.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">It was a good day, don't you think? Even though we dont know until now what teams played against each other. And who won. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-17990743937427825302012-08-29T14:07:00.002-07:002012-08-29T14:07:59.988-07:00Anti-thosePeople <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">They say from the day we are born, we are born with fresh minds. And from that day we start to form thoughts on how we understand the world.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>Some say that though we couldn't talk, we could communicate. (Us, when we were toothless humans-kids, so adorable) Thats why when a kid has shit in his diapers he will cry. A certain cry and just like that we will know that the kid has shit.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And when a kid is hungry. She cries, and that's the way she communicates.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When did life become a competition? Did directors open us to a world where friends-with-benefits is a legitimate kind of relationship? Did writers convince us that the more girls you have done the more of a man you are? Did wedding planners convince women that the bigger your wedding, the better you are?</div><div><br />
</div><div>When did life become a competition?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Life became a competition when she was cheated on. Life became a competition when some guy made some woman feel like she wasn't good enough. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And just like kids look at the world, understand it and decide. Every time I cry in a super market, I get a toy car. Every time I hurt myself I get everyone's attention. Every time I dance this way that guy stares. </div><div><br />
</div><div>When did life become a competition?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Life became a competition when she was seated at the cafeteria with one of her friends. And they went on with there normal life, talked about guys, shoes, dresses, ice cream and how nice the chicken was.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then a guy, who was my friend. Stood up from our table, walked up to that girl and asked her...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"hi"</div><div><br />
</div><div>The girl smiled. I think she thought that the guy was approaching her. She must have thought the guy was going to drop a pick up line. She would find it corny. But it was alright. She had this look on her face. I-have-been-waiting-for-you-to-say-something. Say anything, come on, say anything am going to take you home.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"hi"</div><div><br />
</div><div>Both dames stopped eating and looked at the guy.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"so you both have both ice cream and juice?"</div><div><br />
</div><div>The girls smiled innocently. Yes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>He started laughing as if he couldn't contain himself. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"how can you be so stupid, they serve the same purpose."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And these girls didn't even know what had just happened to them. Everyone was staring at them. The guy was laughing, and he even pretended he needed to hold there table not to fall. He was so spectacular we all laughed. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And everyone else around started laughing. They didn't know what they were laughing about, but laughter is contagious. No one but us knew what we were laughing about, but everyone knew what they were laughing at but not knowing what they were laughing about.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In a matter of ten minutes, the lives of two innocent girls changed.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When did life become a competition? Life became a competition when those two girls got laughed at. It's then they formed this perception that, there are people who are better than others. And it's been fucked up from that time onwards.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So at some point I liked one of those girls. But she is no longer the girl I used to know.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She makes everyone who isn't wearing heels as good as hers feel like crap. She doesn't date guys who don't drive. She doesn't eat any place where they don't allow visa. She doesn't say it, cause saying it would be just mean. But she acts it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I don't blame her imagine. We are all kids. We all still have fresh minds, until someone publicly humiliates us, and we react like any human will do when engaging with the world. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We are just trying to find our lost reputation, we are just trying to be somebody, we are just trying to gain our lost pride, we just want our respect back. It's all right. Am just trying to write my wrongs, my reputation is going with it. But the sign of a growing man is his ability to feel guilt.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But how the fuck do you go to some innocent girls, seated comfortably with minds un-polluted and decide to make yourself look better, stronger, more confident, daring, by humiliating them. How fucked up are you? How stupid are you? Why can't you fuckin find another way of making yourself someone, that doesn't involve crushing others. Ruining them for life. That's just plain stupid.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Yes... And then you wonder, here is a guy, who writes about how anyone who guards your gate as employment, anyone who polish your shoes for a salary is the scum of the earth. We all have come from hard places, we all might be faced with worse, but how we come out of it, is what makes us who we are. So am not fuckn erasing any shit I wrote before this. Those f*** retards should realize that all these posts are connected. And if I f**** up my life for doing this. I will know I will have made at least someone an angel.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause when two innocent girls sat there, and they were socially attacked, I wasn't there to seat next to them. Make everything better. And I would have dammit, I fuckn would have. Would you have? Have you ever? No, I feel sorry for you, you haven't lived until you have saved a life!</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-41907739362535894202012-08-25T11:14:00.002-07:002012-08-25T11:14:26.961-07:00Slut Personality. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">Today's post is inspired by something everyone has. Yes, you, you, him and her. Everyone around you has it. Personality. Some are said to have more personality than others. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>Today's post is inspired by a slut. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We were a group of pals. But one of all the girls stood out. Her hair is like doll hair. It has curls at the end, has a tint of brown and man is it breathtaking. </div><div>She always holds her head straight, looks straight ahead. And her beauty is breathtaking.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Have you ever meet such a girl? Her jeans fit perfect, her figure is perfect. Her jeans fit well, just below where they're meant to fit. Her stomach sinks to her cookie jar, just perfectly. Everything about her is neat. Her eyes brows, her make up. Her lip stick. She is perfect. If you unwrapped her clothes, you can already tell that there is no way her lingerie would be unsightly. When you have such confidence everything is perfect about you, the way you smell under there. Your milk isn't in small cubes, it's creamy like mucus. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So she got into the car with her friends. And just like that I could tell she was it. The way she stared directly straight ahead into nothing. Her lips her placed perfectly and her lipstick red was always on, even when she ate it didn't leave her lips. She has that skill.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Her eye lashes have something done to them that makes them look pretty. Her eye lids are colored to match her outfit. Pink. She is a doll. She has learnt how to be a doll, plus her natural genetic beauty.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You look at her, she isn't smiling, she looks straight at nothing, I think that's the appeal of blondes. It's like she realizes she is a trophy, she is comfortable with it, she lets herself get seen. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"hey. Can you ask the guys in the next table for drinks, they have keringet water."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And everyone around our table is too timid to ask for water. We are shy, we can't just talk to people we don't know. What if we get rejected.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"throw a flower at him" I say, like it is a joke.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She actually goes through with it. She breaks the flower off its stalk. She leaves the flower vase flower less. She actually throws the flower at the guys seated on the next table. They ignore it. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But she persists.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"hey, I see you have two bottles of water, can I have one..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>The guy turns. He looks pissed. But imagine she doesn't care. You can see it in her face, it's like she is too full of life to care. So what if he is pissed. The next time i do it i will not be pissed. She is too beautiful to care. He gives her the water.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And just like that I know. This is a girl who is thoroughly social. Why? Cause she has grown up beautiful. So obviously, everywhere she has gone, people have been kinder to her than everyone else. Men have thrown themselves over cliffs for her. That's what makes her so gut-full. She can just throw flowers at random people. She just doesn't care!</div><div><br />
</div><div>If we were in a new town, she didn't know anyone. Guess who would be the first to build a large social network. Her. Cause she hits a guy with a flower, she asks for water, she smiles at strangers. She is just alive. And therefore, out of all the girls I am with around that table. She will definitely be the first to get hit on. By not one guy, many. Why? Cause when we were together. She threw a flower, and asked for a keringet.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I bet when she walks into a club. She would do something similar. Like steal a seat from an already occupied table. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"hey, someone is there..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"when they come back I will return it."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"he is just coming back..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"am here aren't I, I will let him have the seat."</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then the poor guy comes back, sees this gorgeous girl who he is told has his seat. What do you think happens? Let's assume that guy is even your boyfriend, what happens?</div><div><br />
</div><div>"hey... You seating on my seat."</div><div><br />
</div><div>Boom. There we have some conversation. Say hi to my friends, trust me someone will hit on her. In that short dress, with those piercing eyes, with such perfection inspired by a personality that is geared to make sure she looks perfect all the time. Her eyes, her eye lashes, her dress, her shoes, her nails, her hair, her attention to detail. How could one of those so many men try not to slip there number to her?</div><div><br />
</div><div>And that's what happened. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So her pretty looks, her outgoing personality, and drama. Her loudness, immediately makes her take the spot light. Wherever she goes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And these other girls wonder, why her, why her. Come on. Look at her. She is the loudest. There is no way you can be in a room and not notice her. Her heels makes noise, she doesn't feel shy about it, cause she is too concerned with living.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She isn't afraid to get into class late, she gets there late. And she makes noise as she gets in. The lecture stops for a second. You feel like you wouldn't be possibly be that loud, you couldn't be that oblivious to the attention you are drawing, how dare she cause such a scene, every time. It's that scene that makes her powerful.</div><div><br />
</div><div>All eyes on her, she runs the show, and that is just the beginning of her appeal. And when she is that loud, and that pretty, every guy thinks. She is definitely out of my league. Definitely. So they don't bother.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But she bothers, she steals your seat. It's like she is giving you a chance to complain. She is giving you a chance to talk to her. This beautiful powerful doll. And as you try to complain, you slip your number to her. Cause no girl takes care of her looks like she does. Besides, she is the girl every guy wants. Guys are competitive. She is a prized trophy. If its not love, it's to show off, if it's to show off, it might turn to love.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Come on, in one night. Half of the men you've seen have asked her for her number. There is going to be at least half of the half who have something impressive to offer.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And what happens then...</div><div><br />
</div><div>She lets him in. And she let's others in. She drops one after the other, cause unlike other girls, she has more opportunity to cheat than the rest.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The rest would cheat. But they don't, cause. Hey, lack of opportunity!</div><div><br />
</div><div>"am seeing this guys now..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"but you were seeing this other one."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"ah, that one doesn't like buying me drinks"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"you can't be serious... Wewe ni slut sana"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"am pretty and I know it."</div><div><br />
</div><div>We get boring. She is the kind of girl, no other girl lets near her man. Cause she is competition. Who has the time to keep her hair that perfect, not just perfect, who has that eye for beauty like she does. If she took you to a saloon, and recommended something, you better take her advice. Cause half of the time, she has the talent for beauty. That's what it is, the best person to ask how to be a duck from is a duck.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When you keep telling her. Keep off my man. As a joke, but you know you are serious it's cause you know she is competition. You feel it. There is evidence. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So she leaves the table. Cause you guys bored her.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And you wonder where she is. The next time you see her. She already has got some people who offered her smokes. Yes, and she is inviting you. And you can already tell those guys she found smoking, those chics she found smoking are all offering her that cause she is beautiful. She is good to look at, just that she gets everything easier. Plus the fact that she throws flowers around, steals seats no matter how mad you are. You have yourself a volcano. A girl with such personality you can't handle.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But at the end of the day, that's not the person you want to be with. Cause you will never be at peace. You will always be calling her asking her if she is at home. Most of the time she isn't. Her place is the spot light, not at your place with a bottle of something, just the two of you. And you know the drill when she goes out without you to watch her, you know the drill. That's why you are mad. You know she isn't yours, she belongs to the world.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She will actually complain about you asking her to do that. Seat with her, just the two of you with a bottle. In her world; who does that!</div><div><br />
</div><div>But at the end of the day, that's not the person you want to be with, cause first of all everyone has been with her. Then, you will never be the only one with her. She is with everyone. </div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-38513022497120481092012-08-25T02:23:00.000-07:002012-08-25T02:23:40.182-07:00Lovers Fought <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">When we started off, I didn't talk much. You complained a little. But I started writing things that would make you know how I feel. They talk to communicate, I write to tell you how I feel.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>This is a part of me. I share it with the world, but I share it first with you. Every post lands in your email. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"it's alright you can post it."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And that's when I publish it. Then throw it around social media for people to eat it. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Before you were here there was a girl who used to receive my posts while they were private emails, and when she said...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"it's alright, you can post it."</div><div><br />
</div><div>That's the only time I posted it. I used to write about her, she loved to read about herself. We weren't in a relationship. We were friends with that benefit.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You came along, and I gave my heart to you. And things started to change. I stopped emailing her. I started you. And just like that I drew away from her, and drew closer to you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We only have so much space for close relationships. When one becomes less dependent on everyone else, they become dependent on that one person they are with. I depend on you swiri.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I wrote something last night, I really felt strongly about. I know I called you in the middle of the night and asked you to give me your opinion on it. You told me you got to sleep. I had to literally beg you to read.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"baby, be cupcake, be as sweet as those and check it."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"but it's four in the morning."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"baby, please I love you."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"am so sleepy"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"baby please, I love you, please read it"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"tomorrow when you wake up, you will find that I read it"</div><div><br />
</div><div>And it took ten minutes maybe. I even asked you to take a glass of mango juice. I know when you take a glass of sugar at night you get that sugar rush that keeps you eyes opened. You didn't. I know once you did, when we were starting this.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I left everyone else. It's just you and me now. I feel bad cause there are this two things I hoped from you when we got together;</div><div><br />
</div><div>one, is that you would be true to me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Two, is that you would read my posts regardless.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Swiri I don't like many things, I just want you to support my course even though sometimes it feels like you don't believe in it. That's the best way to tell me you love me. I know one of the best ways to tell you I love you is not going to bed without saying GoodNight. And haven't I adopted to it? Even though I don't understand it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>What I know is that you really love it when I take my time to say goodnight. All I know is that you really love it when I say good night.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe that's why there are vows. I promise you what you want me to promise you. You promise me what you want to promise me. And this is why I want you to promise me...</div><div><br />
</div><div>That when it's late at night, when it's bright in the day, you will take your time to edit what I write, cause the third most deepest part of me coming after my thoughts and feelings, are these words.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I know they might not mean much to you. But here I live hints of the deepest part of me, parts you can't see until you really look. Parts you can't feel unless you really read and think about what am trying to say. I hide the deepest parts of me in the open honey.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And I feel a little disappointed, it's almost as if you are saying No to me when you say. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"baby am sleepy..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And it's not adding to the fact that you only promise me three days to be with you in two months. What do I do the rest 50+ days am not with you. What the fuck do I do? And I love you? Just three days.</div><div><br />
</div><div>This is where this post would end if it was not you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But you see with you, I see my end of the story, and I see yours too. I try to put your interest first, the best way I know how.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And putting your interest first is realizing that, maybe asking you to wake up at 4am to read my email is asking to much. Heck I also get mad when I get phone calls at that time. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I put your interest first and realize, maybe I lost my spark, maybe it's cause I don't write to you enough, and you feel like these words are dull. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe I write about other people, and you secretly hate it. Maybe you don't agree with what I say sometimes. It's only human, and maybe that's why sometimes you don't want to read what I write.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe you feel you are the only one who has to take flights to come see me, I never quite take trips like I used to back then we were younger, when our love was new and unstable. Maybe you secretly hate me for that and you don't feel as eager to be nice to me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I know deep inside you feel the same way I feel. I know deep inside you love me. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"I don't want to do this any more..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"am tired"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"you want us to break up"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"i dont want to talk right now"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"what are you going to tell me about waking me up late night? Making me read your work only to find you dozed of before I tell you what I thought of it?"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"nothing"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"nothing?"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"nothing, you're not going to say you are sorry?"</div><div><br />
</div><div>And the line goes dead.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Babe, am a guy. I am a man, I don't like being told what to do. I know you are used to being a boss. But even so, when am wrong, don't talk to me like that. I don't know what's happening to me, the older I get the more I feel like I have a beard & it means something. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But it leaves me feeling like crap, regardless. It leaves you feeling like crap. And it doesn't even take more than half a day for each one of us to re-reach out to each other.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You try to call, like I can see endless missed calls on my phone right now. I don't want to pick up cause I know I will not explain what I feel this well on phone than on paper. You on the other hand, I know you will best tell me how you feel on call that's why you can't stop calling.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But baby, can't you see, we love each other. You can't do anything but call and make up. I can't do anything but write to make up. We are on the same page, we just react different, cause we are different. We are on the same page, we love each other. We want each other. So if it's my ego that is going to get deflated, my sense of pride is going to be dissolve. Then so be it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here goes nothing...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"babe, am sorry. Am sorry I woke you up, am sorry I made you read something that might have been boring at 4am."</div><div><br />
</div><div>At the end of the day, it's my love for you that matters. So whether I am wrong, whether you are right. Whether am right you are wrong, all that matters is that. I want you. I need you. I love you. I care for how you feel more than how I feel myself.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Am coming back home swiri, leave your hands wide open. Am coming back there.</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-3120832523644264932012-08-21T09:13:00.000-07:002012-08-21T09:13:03.919-07:00The part I would like to kill <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">When does life get so complicated? When does life begin to get this way? Will I not get a break? Is this piece of hell never ending? Slice after slice. When will I feel like heaven again?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>Or is it life has always been complicated? Is it that as we get older our eyes get opened? We are no longer shielded from what happens around us. Is it going to get worse? The older we get? Or is it going to go back to how it was blissful?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Who feels like they are just surviving, like they are just fighting? Who feels like happiness comes like medicine. You can't take more than one pill a day, it's measured?</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to kill a part of me. I want to kill the part of me that makes me aware of me. I want to kill the part of me that makes me coil up. I want to kill the part of me that makes me care what people say about me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to kill the part of me that decides that with the years pass by, I will kill eighty percent of the contents of this blog. Pretend I never wrote those words that I felt the most but are not appropriate.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to kill the part of me that makes me a coward. That makes me afraid of standing up like a lion and pound my chest. Roar. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But am afraid of killing that part of me, cause to me fear is a warning sign that tells me, you aren't ready. I want to kill that part of me, but am afraid if I kill it, I will have no fear. And fear to me is the warning sign that tells me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Bobby, you are not the kind to stand before a crowd, you will get nervous, butterflies will fly in your stomach until you wet your pants!</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to kill the part of me that fears. But if I kill it, I might lose my life, because fear is the warning sign that tells you. You can't drive that fast, you might get an accident. Fear is what keeps me from 240km per hour, fear is what keeps me at 100km per hour.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Fear... </div><div><br />
</div><div>It okay to be afraid I want to believe, cause it is fear that protects us. Fear is what takes us back to the gym, tells us we got to build some mental muscle, some physical muscle to tackle the day before us. Fear can make us prepare.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But am at a point where fear has seized me, rooted my feet to the ground, taken away my joy. I want to break the chains. Am I strong enough?</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to be unafraid. Cause at the end of the day the people who watch your actions don't add any value to your life. But maybe they do...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause there was this girl, she didn't care what anyone thought of her, and she carried a bad reputation as close to her as her shadow. No one wanted to be seen with her, people just wanted to be with her when it was at night, when her shadow wasn't with her, her bad repuatation wasn't with her. At dark night when no one sees that you are associated with her.</div><div><br />
</div><div>See, I am afraid of that too. I bet you are too. Imagine if people fled you like a disease. I know you don't care about people say but imagine if people fled you like a disease. And ones reputation is like the ghost of you that goes before you, defends you when you not around.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When you aren't around a crowd of people discussing you. It's your reputation that defends you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And that's the thing I want to kill, the things I want to do will kill my repuatation I promise. It will drag it into the mad. And I do care about my repuatation a little bit. But am not having fun. I don't know the value of my reputation for now. Is it opening for me doors? If I knew, I would know what extent I would go protecting it. But I don't know what extent I will go protecting it cause I don't know what it is doing for me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I think the question I should ask myself is is what I am ruining my reputation for worth it? The question is, am I ready to lose my reputation for what I want?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Or should I do what I want to do but hide it. Keep my reputation intact?</div><div><br />
</div><div>When did life get this complicated. They say ignorance is bliss. I see why they say that now. I see children. They scream when they want to, they run in meetings, they play, they do whatever they want oblivious of everyone else. They go to the ones they like they run away from the ones they don't like. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But when we get older, we settle. We settle for everything cause we understand something's are impossible, but is anything ever impossible. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I am going to take steps, kill my pride, I might reduce myself to nothing in my quest for what I want. And I hope I will find something great, and it will be worth the reputation I drive through the mad. </div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div></div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-757238260910413312012-08-20T07:47:00.000-07:002012-08-20T07:47:13.336-07:00...at the back of your mind. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">I believe in the subconscious like you believe you will have a beautiful family one day. I believe in the subconscious cause when the television is On, but you aren't looking at it but instead concentrating on reading this blog, or texting. If I turned off the television and ask you what was on it, you will have a rough idea. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>That's why I am still in law school, but am going to court, am spending time in law firms, cause I believe in the subconscious. I believe my mind takes in more than I really think it does. Please start believing that, cause its one of those things that just believing in them makes you destined for greatness.</div><div><br />
</div><div>There is something called a bond. For a second think about the model of the car that best suits you, can you imagine it, can you see yourself driving it into town... Can you see yourself turning the steering so that you can park it, now your sweet car is packed in town, you packed it in town, then the Municipal Council idiots clamped it cause you didn't pay parking fees; being a person of high temper you broke the clamp, or you removed the wheel plus the clamp, put it in the boot and screwed the spare wheel in, then drove away, escaped but someone reported you. They snitched!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Your name, your car number plate will be put on something called black-list in the Municipal Council City council office. It's usually a notice board.</div><div><br />
</div><div>'____ *insert your car number plate here* Wanted for vandalism of Government Property of Municipal Council'</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hilarious right. Ati sasa a padlock and clamp is property! Yes it is. And you will get arrested, assuming they arrest such people, and you will call me to defend you in court cause even the language they use there is very technical, let's not even start on the procedure.</div><div><br />
</div><div>What happens next?</div><div><br />
</div><div>The bond thing. I will ask the court to release you on bond. Bond is the car log book you leave at the courts registry, or the title deed, or the pay-slip that thing the court will accept you leave there as insurance that you will not skip town, fail to attend court when the time for discussing why you broke government property, 'a mere padlock and a chain'. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You are just reading a story right? Is that what your mind tells you right now? You are just getting entertained right? But let me ask you something simple... What is a bond? Wow. You can explain it... Okay, let's ask another, what is government property? Is a Parking Clamp government property? See what i mean? Our mind takes in more than we give it credit for.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Now that we know this, isn't it time to use it to our advantage?</div><div><br />
</div><div>We all want certain things, we want love, we want wonderful relationships, we want cars, we want castles, we want personal assistant, we want chefs to make us prawns in our home kitchens, we want to run our business in profitable ways. We want someone to wipe the sh of our **** after we seat on the toilets.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then how do we get all these?</div><div><br />
</div><div>I think the first thing is to want these thing, wanting something you don't have is a product of imagination. At the moment, I will leave the reality I see with my real eyes, take a mental trip to day dream land and imagine myself kissing my girl, I will imagine myself jumping onto a horse, riding it really fast she gets impressed her heart skips for me. Then after I imagine that, I will make the decision on how to create a plan on how I can bring that imagination into reality. And that's when I decide to call my girl. </div><div><br />
</div><div>"babe, I miss Naivasha..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"really?"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I thought you would say you missed me."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I miss Naivasha."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"come on!"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"we go horse riding."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I will kill all those horses, tell me you miss me."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I love you"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"then after horses we go to SoPa"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I love that place"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I miss you, I love you. See you in Naivasha Saturday."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"there pepper steak is really awesome."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"bye."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"bye."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And just like that, from the database I have collected of hotels since my childhood, I am able to make a decision about which hotel will best suit us, which town will best give us that relaxing atmosphere. And with that I make a decision to turn my imagination in reality.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You can deny it all you want, but it doesn't make it untrue. We all hold certain facts in our minds, different ones, and those facts are what we use to make decisions. And thats what shapes out lives. And most those facts make up our subconscious mind, things we think about but we don't realize we thing about.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Stuff you inherit from your family, the ones that came before you. That passive income is a must, not a luxury. You can't just depend on a salary to live, you have to have an income on the side that comes in regardless whether you are in hospital, fired, retrenched or too bored to work. But if you don't have that, imagine it, then after imagining it, create a plan to make it happen. Yes... The first thing you will come up with is real estate, good idea, collect rent at the end of the month na kazi yako tu nikushuta shuta. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But that's what everyone does to get passive income, but since you haven't bothered to watch business news, engage with business people, learn about it through observation, reading, practice and thought. Your database on business is shallow, you don't know what a corporate bond is, what a treasury bond is, so even if you were to create a plan on how to create passive income your plan will be shallow. And therefore even though you want a constant passive income, I might beat you on the race to create one cause I let myself learn though thinking, observing, practice, but most of all cause I believe in the power of the subconscious.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Do you remember the thing I was telling you about the subconscious, the mind taking in more than you think it's taking in? </div><div><br />
</div><div>I've always wanted to write something on paper, as a hobby, but translate it into something that can sell like hot cake on a book shelf. And I created this blog partly to get experience. </div><div><br />
</div><div>People will tell you... You are writing about love too much, you are writing about this too much... This post is boring... This one changed my life... This one did that... This one does that... And then there are the statistics... With every post I write, I learn something, with every post I write, I gain experience, and I make a conscious effort to analyze what I infer. Some of these I think about consciously, some subconsciously. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I always wonder why I am so eager to write on weekends, I have never known why, but after carefully trying to find out why. I found out that it's cause I get new viewers on weekends, so I try to emphasize on that to get as many as I can get. But I never quite think about it consciously, it's stuff that is at the back of my mind. </div><div><br />
</div><div>When you upload such a photo, usually the tone of your inboxes turn into naughty, when you update something funny usually people jump to comment, we don't think about these a lot, but at the back of our mind we have thought about it, made a decision to update that, because we want this. We have learnt the system, we have learnt Facebook, we have learnt google plus, we have learnt twira, so we will definitely make better decision than a new user, unless of course e have studied it before experience, right?</div><div><br />
</div><div>If you ask me, it's time you decided what you want, and be imaginative about it, then it's time you came up with a plan on how to get it. At first your plan might be shallow, cause all you will be doing is copying other people's plans. Wear a short skirt to make him want you! After knowing the game better, you realize, leave the skirt alone, for him to want you he needs to be addicted to your company. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Once you get into the habit of for example seating in court writing a post like this, your eyes, your ears, your nose, your thoughts, your sense of touch will catch more things than you think, they will form an information database in your mind, that will help you make better decisions to win your cases more than a newbie.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Like...sometimes advocates move up country for cases, sometimes advocates have the court clerk numbers on speed dial just to find out if a judge or magistrate is seating, sometimes that is helpful cause your client might get arrested on Friday for breaking some Parking Clamp, and he will be in a cell. But if you had the court clerks number, you could call the clerk, to ask the judge to make an apperance in court for five minutes even if it is <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors="true">on Friday afternoon</a>, and allow your client to leave there car log book as bond, so that he doesn't spend the weekend in a cell for something so small.</div><div><br />
</div><div>That something no one learns in law school. That something you learn when you seat at the court room and stuff registers in your subconscious. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause at the end of the day, whether it is fashion, love, relationships, religion, life or even cooking. You aim at something that is not a state that exists in real life, it's only a state you imagine in your mind most of the time of something better, and once you aim at something you make a decision on how to get that something, and that decision will be guided by the level of knowledge you have, and the level of knowledge you have depends on your database of information, and your database of information depends on how much quality stuff you have put in your mind through your five senses, sight, touch, ears, taste, thought. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We are all making decisions, you might want to say am not good enough, am not smart enough, am not... But most of these things we think we aren't good enough at- we are not good enough at cause in that area we don't make as good enough decisions as people who are better in those areas than us. Why don't we make good decisions, cause we have not established a large enough database through absorbing information through our five senses.</div><div><br />
</div><div>If it is to flirt you want, create a database, watch with your sense of sight all you can, hear with your ears, touch with your hands, feel, absorb all the information you can through experience on flirting, and I bet you right, when you are saturated, you will make the perfect decision through your subconscious, when to smile, when to laugh, when to kiss, when not to kiss, how best to care. What do do with your tongue... </div><div><br />
</div><div>I believe in the subconscious, I have tried to logically explain it. But the phenomenon that I will never quite understand is love, and how I feel when I see my girlfriend. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I believe in understanding the subconscious, I don't believe in understanding love though, I believe in feeling it. I rest my case.</div><div><br />
</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-22185761725457123462012-08-14T15:15:00.002-07:002012-08-14T15:15:57.392-07:00Luv <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">It's love, that's what it is. You watch people that have it easier than you do. Yours is stronger, it's so strong. But you are strong, so you hold on, but you think about how others have it so easy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>There they are walking in the street, going around woth there affairs, there they are in shops, there they are laughing, talking, walking together, maybe they aren't even in love and they have each other. They aren't missing each other, they don't realism toture of missing someone.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Missing someone's so much tht the lines on this don't have to be perfect, this becomes sort of like that bar of chocolate you over eat when you are sad, this words become like that stick of cigarette your friend holds at the bar, you never smoke but you feel something in yourself you just want to release, so you grab it from his hand, and you pull all the smoke into your lungs.</div><div><br />
</div><div>This is intoxicating, this emotions are, love is, you feel stuff in excess, excess pleasure, you just care so much.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She hurts, you hurt more. When she says...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I hurt my hand today..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>You ask </div><div><br />
</div><div>"what happened to our hand..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>She laughs,</div><div><br />
</div><div>You ask again,</div><div><br />
</div><div>"what happened to your hand..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>She says it's okay for you to say our. And it kind of feels like she said its okay to get out my panties.</div><div><br />
</div><div>If I ever get fucked up, baby it will be you, my alcohol is not alcohol, I even don't like that sh, I wasn't raised that way, my alcohol babe is you. My alcohol is this unstable heart of mine. The love I feel for you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have always known the girl who I will love is the one who is going to fuck me up, yes, she is the one who is going to fuck me up, cause look at me now, I said I will not swear, and here I am swearing, fuck. Fuck, fuck? Fuck!</div><div><br />
</div><div>And it's not professional, it isn't good character to curse, it's unbecoming. But hey, whatever. Yes? No?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Who care if it's 1am in the morning, and I don't think I will be sleeping tonight, six in the morning will get me here, and my alarm will scream until it blows up but I will not wake up. But someone is going to hit my door until am up, and am going to be a zombie the whole of tomorrow, cause I will be as sleepy as fuck! A, I still cursing.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So my reputation babe I will lose cause of you, cause I can see myself one day, right there in the street, you walking with your friends, we have been fighting cause I don't pick up calls and all that shit you handa me for.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And you know what I would do, I would just walk up to you, and you know how it is, old people don't watch movies, heck mamaz the old ones don't get mini skirts and that shit. And for sure those babas will not get why a man will just walk up to a girl in public knowing very well you could reject my apology and get embarrassed.</div><div><br />
</div><div>They will not get it, but I get it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause it's late at night, I have work to do, am not doing it. I've been told I should edit this posts, but I don't give a fuck, think of it as tht bottle of something something you take large amounts of to numb yourself </div><div><br />
</div><div>I don't care how long this goes you will notice my last post, law, success, law, fun, adventure and some point all of a sudden, I break up and write Dear Princess, Perfume, Cupcake. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Am so tired, </div><div><br />
</div><div>But today is another day, I have to live where I just hear you voice on the phone, tomorrow is another day I will have my favourite meal without you on the other end of the table.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow should be the day when I die inside, tomorrow should be the day when I say, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, so what if I become a judge and I have ruined my reputation with all this nonsense called love,</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's what really makes me feel stuff. Everything else doesnt have that ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh -effect </div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow I lose it, tomorrow babe, I die, I don't care what the f everyone things, anyone thinks, am not going to look at this as weakness, I will look at it as a path to the best moments of my life, tomorrow am going to be brave. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow am going to tell you,</div><div><br />
</div><div>I love you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>No more pretending that I don't think abiut you,</div><div><br />
</div><div>No more resisting thoughts of you,</div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow is time I let you really in my life,</div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow I decide,</div><div><br />
</div><div>You will really be part of me,</div><div><br />
</div><div>I will really be part of you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We have been together,</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I have been in denial,</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause this feels too deep.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And am a guy.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And you know what deep I prefer.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Am yours now.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Am not going to fight it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>If I seem to eager, if I seem to clingie, if I just want to call make you laugh, make you smile, I will do it, I know I have learnt alot, too much of something is dangerous and what not. But it's time I took experiments, it's time I didint play had to get, it's time I have in. If you leave leave! If I open up and you still find me fun, let it be. Cause baby, tomorrow, pillow talk, spending time with you however way posible is wht I will be most about.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause I need to see you, cause when I see you, I can then function, I can do my work and sh. Is that a way of my heart telling me you come first!</div><div><br />
</div><div>I love cause this is fun. Most people die not feeling what love is, babe. Thanks. Hehe and once, I almost said thanks after we shagged. You were too good! </div><div><br />
</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-33903189475585130092012-08-14T14:45:00.002-07:002012-08-14T14:45:46.496-07:00Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div>It comes a point when a man gives up. See, men aren't like women, for men it's about sex first. That's from where our love grows. Am just saying what I think, I know sex is wrong before marriage. But hey. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So, why is it that men are the ones who have to lose out in a relationship, I mean from the first day you hook up. Dates, seated out somewhere under umbrellas, with steak on the table, prawns, wine glasses. And as a guy, you have to pretend you aren't thinking about hitting it! </div><div><br />
</div><div>But it's all cool.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's been days, but it's okay, cause am in love. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So I have to go through night after night wanting, and not getting.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have to walk around, watch, knowing I could, it only takes a hello. And it's a done deal in a day or two, or hours.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I wish you were here, you don't know how badly I wish you were here. I used to find fun in simple things, I used to find fun in squash, I used to really love lawn tennis. My tennis shoes are never dusty nowadays, no red clay from the court. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Just a red heart in pain, I just want you here. I miss you until its painful. I would like to cover myself, I would like to cover myself in files. Today i was supposed to draft papers, plants, defenses, you know stuff for court.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I looked at the computer screen, the wall paper, and I saw you. And I wondered why the hell I was seated there. Why do I need to draft some stupid paper well. You already impressed, I already have you. To tell you the truth, I felt like fuck it!</div><div><br />
</div><div>I woke up, this morning, you were the first thing on my mind. Long ago the first thing on my mind would be, what is the perfect tie to go with this shirt. It's got to be just right, cause I got to impress someone. But I already have you, the fight is already over.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So I don't think my tie matched with my shirt today, and I was cool with it. But to tell you the truth babe, I don't even think that's the thing, I think you just defined my life into two;</div><div><br />
</div><div>One, The moments am anticipating to be woth you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Two, And the moment am with you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But am with you for very few hours usually, and sometimes when am woth you am always thinking, I have to see you off. As soon as I hug you, I can already see it coming. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You say good bye.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The waiter takes away the plates.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And damn your eyes look so beautiful I want to cry. And the way yu talk, and the way you laugh. And when it starts getting dark and it's time to go home, your eyes form this glear, like they are shiny, problem is that they are tears, a film of tears that makes your eyes even lovelier than ever. But it's time for me to rise up, it's time for us to pull the seats, it's time for us to leave.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And I look at you in that navy blue mercedes, and when you tell me you have to be home on time, and I almost wish it wasn't it cause then you could just call home and tell them your car broke down, you can't travel back home. And baby I love you, when I open the door, you slide into the drivers seat, I put my head into the car, kiss your lips, then pull the seat built, tie it on you. Start the car for you, so that I can open the window, I hug you one more time. Then I close the door gently, not to hurt you and I hate myself for shutting the door, letting you go home, and all I want is you to be with me, am sure I make you feel like home. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And when your door is shut, I swear I cry it's just that my eyes usually are invisible, I poke my head into the car through your window, the I decide whether I will kiss you on your lips, I decide your cheek cause we are at a public parking spot.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Under those tress at the sports club that blossom and shower the yellow flower like things, but after kissing your cheek, I can't stop, I start to feel like I don't care whose watching, I know we in Kenya yes, we not in a movie. But who cares, what if we public kiss. And I hold your face kiss you like am feeling pain, and my muscles cringe. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And I walk away but always come back, say bye bye bye bye again and again.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why did I put myself through all these? Where did the days go when I sued a mirror in the morning, making sure I was alright. What happened to the days when I went to the bank to withdraw instead of using the atm? Those days when I loved those pretty women who were behind those glasses at the bank. They were so fly, until you? </div><div><br />
</div><div>What happened to those days when I hang out around hoping to meet someone, hoping to meet people, hoping to see women in short skirts, wht happened to my wanting to have ever woman. What happened? </div><div><br />
</div><div>Did I get happy? Are you all in one? When did you love me so much that I would rather be miserable late at such hours of the night writing this... Thinking about you instead of doing something fun, like hooking up with someone. Is it that I can seat here in bed sleepless, miserable cause I haven't seen you in day's. Days. But it feels better than anything with anyone else, everyone else.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Babe am f up. </div><div><br />
</div><div>But it's alright, ama wait.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause I know this weekend am going to take you somewhere out of town, am going to take you some place where the hotels are more popular than the clubs, am going to take you to a place where pick ups are jeeps with no roofs. I am going to take you to that place where the road is Tarmac and wavy, and never ends.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Do you remember I took u there last time, and we raced, but you had an unfair advantages, I almost overturned when I hit tht pothole, but you wouldn't know that cause you were ahead of me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But its cause I let you be ahead.</div><div><br />
</div><div>No I let you, no? Yes? Whatever. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You can driver ahead all you want babe, I will behind here, spanking it, the best stroke, pressing those two horns. Until no one is horn- e. anymore.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Can't wait for the weekend, I want to live for today. But I can't, I just can't. I just can't live for today. Have you ever been at a time in your life when thoughts about the future are better than today's fun? Come on, you haven't gotten so lost thinking in the future?</div><div><br />
</div><div>You ask me why I don't write to you lately? Here it is... I don't want to write about you, cause its painful. I know it's wrong to say its painful, but am being truthful, I miss you so much it's pain. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I miss you, I miss your head, I miss you b you b, your c, your l. I miss you to tears, and I miss you until I have no time for anything. It's late tonight, it's really late, I know I have to wake up early tomorrow, I will still wake up early. You just called and told me I need to sleep. I need to sleep cause if I dnt, you knowing me,I will still wake up early, and when you don't sleep early, you become a bitch, on edge angry the whole day.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow, I will be angry at every beautiful women I see, I will see a girl in sun glasses when am driving to work, and I would hate her cause she is not you. I will see a girl with light skin, I will kick something on the floor as I walk angry cause she is not you. I will see a big ass, and it dancing under some jeans, and that makes me more mad than you think, cause its not you. I will wish it was you, cause if it was I would just walk up, tell you I love you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then kiss you, half way through the kiss, I will lift you as I grab it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow, I will see some girl on the wall, and a guy with his hand on the wall, there face close, and I will wish it was you and me there. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And you know what I would tell you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I would tell you. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Baby, tonight, am going to cook for you, am going to roast potatoes, make nyama choma, am going to open a bottle of wine, am going to wear the shirt you got me, I will hope you would wear the bracelet I got you, and the watch. And I would love if you spilled your lipstick on my wine glass and on my lips.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You know the green umbrella I have on my balcony back huko coast? Yes. Right now, it's probably past mid night. But I would out two seats there, two shiny plates, silver knives and spoons, slow nice music in the back ground,</div><div><br />
</div><div>And we will laugh looking at the stars, in shorts and tshirts, I would kiss you. You would kiss me, the trees would be noisy, the wind will blow your hair, and the little balcony lights will make your eyes sparkle. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And this time I will not wrap a gift roughly like I do. This time, the presentation will be as good as the gift. </div><div><br />
</div><div>A box that opens, that is tied together with a ribbon. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And you will blush when you open it, then you will scream and jump up and down forget the food, drag me to bed with just two things. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The wine bottle, no more drinking from the glass, </div><div><br />
</div><div>From the bottle, and kissing. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I would lift you, pin you on the wall, your head will switch the lights off, my hand will carry you as the other holds your hair, oh your hair is always long and never oily. What's the trick? And it smells great like you do. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And whether I will need to drop your clothes, or just reposition them</div><div><br />
</div><div>Whether you will be the one who grabs rubber from my pocket</div><div><br />
</div><div>Or you undo the zip I grab the rubber </div><div><br />
</div><div>But I got to make sure you don't fall.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And it will just be tuesday night. It's just Tuesday night. What happens on Friday, saturday morning, afternoon, what happens. Girl am crazy over you. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You don't know how ridiculous you sound when you tell me, why I don't write to you, about you anymore, why I don't thinking about you. What you should be asking, what times dont I think about you? </div><div><br />
</div><div>And I would tell you, the only times I don't think about you is when I write.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Am trying not to forget everything am about, cause everything am about is you baby. It's you, I can't wait </div><div><br />
</div><div>To see you</div><div><br />
</div><div>This weekend </div><div><br />
</div><div>Love.</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-42288445133968280592012-08-10T13:52:00.000-07:002012-08-10T13:52:40.132-07:00Angels in Bentleys<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div>I like to believe that I cannot be influenced, that birds of a feather don't flock together. But i know am perfectly wrong, am like the people I hang out with, and you are like the people who hang out with.</div><div><br />
</div><div>No? </div><div><br />
</div><div>Believe me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>This blog you read, the number of hours you spend on it, it influences you. Trust me it does, it starts with your mind, then your actions, like suggestions, then it shapes your your behavior. And I really hope I haven't turned anyone into any thing but an angel... Sijui ever-horny... heart breaking... bad person... </div><div><br />
</div><div>I am sorry for anyone I have made feel inferior, we are all equal, we are all human being, we all go back to dust, doctors, lawyers, toilet cleaners, we all go back to dust. So even though we made you feel bad, like you weren't hot enough, pretty enough, smart enough am sorry. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I just adopted to how I grew up. That's why I am so screwed up. I had someone do work for me, okay, I have had lots of people do work for me, and you know what I have done. I have just refused to pay them. Why?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause the whole point of business as we know is to oppress, make people work for you, under pay them, get more profit. Build an empire, drive sleek cars, carry posh designer bags, in an aim to make yourself feel better than others.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"nice bag..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"thank you."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And I feel good for a second, but then it just seats there in my room, I don't even need it. Am not saying its bad.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But, hey, the rewards you get from having nice things never compare to the feeling you get when you really help someone.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I know, I could always say I got influenced, I was born and the people around me spread there ideas to me, I grew up knowing, I have to be king, the music I listen to tells me, you got to be a paper-chaser. The news you watch, the movies I watch are centered on devising the best pyramid schemes of accumulating everything and leaving everyone with nothing.</div><div><br />
</div><div>There was a girl once... She was on my bed. She told me...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"Our boss called us to the office, we are five employees."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And then...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"he asked us to give 20% of our salary to an end year party..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>And then...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"he asked anyone who opposed to raise there hand."</div><div><br />
</div><div>"why didn't you raise yours? They are already under paying you!"</div><div><br />
</div><div>She said because she would be asked to explain why she didn't give up her salary, and her voice becomes small when she talks in public, she was too afraid to talk.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I could tell, she was the only one whose salary was reduced. And she couldn't oppose, why? Cause she just couldn't. It might look like something trivial to you, but imagine some people would rather starve rather than shout make noise. Just cause you are strong, don't think everyone is strong, don't trivialize people's fears, there weakness. </div><div><br />
</div><div>If it were me, imagine I would cause a scene. Come on, how dare he! But that's the thing, we all grow up differently. By the time I was in nursery school teachers used to call me a doctor, I had my hair combed for me, my shoes brushed, and that went on until, forever. Till I could do it myself but they still went on doing that for me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I shout at people, I feel entitled, you know how pathetic I look in other peoples eyes. There is this guy who washes the car I drive, he is an old guy. I have always wondered why he gives me that eye when I drive away from the gate and he is seated there.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Thinking about it, I think he thinks, such an arrogant little idiot. Next time I promise I will not call him, I will not seat there wait for him to rush to me, I am the young one, he is old enough to be someone's father. Whether he cleans the loos or washes the dogs, he deserves my respect, cause am a filthy little brat. Walking around with an air of entitlement. Entitled to what, I will die one day, I will be dust. And at the end of times, what will count is the good deeds I have done, plus who I believe in.</div><div><br />
</div><div>..am not that, am being hard on myself intentionally, so that you can see that most of us think just up to where our noses are. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I don't think capitalism is bad, I don't think wanting nice things is bad. But from what I have read, the more luxuries you love (those rap songs are not helping) No you think they don't influence? Where did you learn about Gucci and Bentleys, come on!</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's a balance, and I hope I balance. If am going to build myself an empire, I must build it as I build the people who help me build it, no constant salaries where I work, commissions all the way. It's ridiculous, it maybe even unproductive, but it's time we challenged all this hog-wash that has been put in our heads.</div><div><br />
</div><div>These hog-wash --> if you ain't got money take your broke us home! If it ain't about the paper, I can't hear you!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Come on? Have we become this stupid? We are people, as in. How do you think people feel when you make them feel like sh? How do you benefit? You hurting people! Bring your broke us here, let's party! We humans, if you not talking about paper, talk to me about having no paper, it has to be adventurous, the hustle and all.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Bobby, you are hurting people, how do you just not talk to her cause she isn't beautiful? How do you give out your boxers for washing? Can't you just have the dignity to put them in the machine yourself? Why do you just leave used rubber with come on the floor? You expect them to pick it? Why do I just decide to shout at that waiter? </div><div><br />
</div><div>No Bobby, you not a kid anymore, you can't just walk around picking people's toys, just cause the people you call friends have grown up learning that greed is good. </div><div><br />
</div><div>That's why on Sunday, Bobby will go to church, cause that's the place where pathetic people like him need to be, with idiot superiority complexes, there are blind people, they are sick people, people have tooth aches, they can't help themselves. People are being sued, and they have no one to defend them, and Bobby just wants Bentleys, really... I got to move on.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have to go to church, seat on those pews, day dream a couple of prayers, hope Heaven gives me the perfect balance, when to build things for myself, and my children to come, and when to take time off, go keep a blind man company, teach a lame man how to play Play Station. Show a child how to read, defend a lorry driver who hit a Mercedes but couldn't get a lawyer good enough to make the judge see he was on the right. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I got to go seat on those pews, just to seat, even though I will not actively listen cause I have too much on my mind, I will passively listen. Cause trust me, there are people I have wronged, there are people we have oppressed. And they are sweating to Heaven that there oppressors burn for the wrong things they have done to them. I need to be an angel, we need to be angels, angels in Bentleys. Hehe</div><div><br />
</div><div>Do you think you are stressed cause you think only about yourself. Do you think the moment you try to solve someone else's stress you will realize where true success is?</div><div><br />
</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-75516354081158914202012-08-09T11:20:00.000-07:002012-08-09T11:20:38.421-07:00Men want S, women want C.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">It's not easy being a man. I can see women standing on tables, throwing their hands up in the air, shouting at Bobby! How dare you say that? News flash, I dare say that. And I will put a chair on top of a table you stand on, so that i stand higher than you and repeat it again.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">It's Not easy being a man!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And here is how I support what I claim. Women seat down and look pretty, it isn't rocker science seating down and looking beautiful, if you want it that bad, pick up make up, get a hugging-dress, nicer colors, do your hair, learn some flirting body language. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"hi... You look so hot."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Thats a guy who has been thinking of the day he will be brave enough to walk up to you and say wassup. No, he doesn't seat down and attract, he stands up, walks half way to where you are. Then freaks out and walks out of the door, goes beats himself up about how much of a loser he is. Just saying hi. Come on, I will do it tomorrow.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Tomorrow never comes tomorrow. It comes months later, maybe six months later. And that's when he walks up to you and says...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"hi, you look hot."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">After six months. He is sweating like a pig, he is nervous as fuck. And you turn. You look at him. You say hi. And you look away. You don't want your friends thinking you know this guy who walks around sweating nervous telling random women they are hot.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"...can I have your number?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And now that makes you feel, what the fuck! Creep! And so the girls stand up with their other friends and exchange tables. From far at the corner, you hear men laughing, and that guy is going to have to go face his friends. And we are guys, we don't give others tissues when they get dumped. We laugh them, we don't talk facing each other, we talk facing the television. So we will not try to comfort each other. We will laugh at each other, and at some point when one of us notice enyewe that guy has been injured. Those girls walked away from him like he was a disease...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And what will we tell the guy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"it's easy man..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"it's easy..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">A tap on the back, finished. Then you go cry in bed alone. Hehe you will never love a girl again. But no, as much as you swear that, we aren't like women, we are driven by sex. Sex rings in our minds like a rich guy rings in a chics mind, no wait, more. Imagine we don't have to think to get a bonner. You see a hot girl, tight skirt, bouncing behind, and all systems erect, even when you not thinking about it. So half of the time, any guy who likes you comes to talk to you, know he will want sex sometime. Simple. If he is attracted to you. It will work sometimes, but most times it will not. Then when he doesn't he will understand that all he needed to do was start a neutral conversation. Like...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"hey stranger, does this shirt make me look gay?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"hey, girl, I want to buy perfume for a girl any suggestions..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Then he will watch women literally jump of the seat to give him advice, cause thats what women are helpless to, giving advice. And if he knows how to turn the conversation from that to flirting, he will pick all those telephone numbers. Then he will dog on all those women, like he just discovered women! A monster!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">But before that, it was... "I've come here to have fun with my girls, stop bugging me."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">It's not that easy being a guys, not that easy, cause it takes a couple of years to understand that women are different, and they don't get that you just see someone and you have decided, I will go say hi to her, then I will get her number, then we will have sex. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">They are complicated, but then they think they aren't. They want to get to know the person, they want to feel safe, even strangers need to be friendly strangers. But guys, hmmm I don't think that ever crosses their mind.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">So anyways, there was this girl. We used to hang out kitambo pamoja lots, back in the day. We had fun, we had fun on the back seat, we had fun in the bedroom, we had fun on the car bonnet, we had fun lots of places. We almost became a thing cause a fling usually leads to serious thing when it's stays too long. But we didn't, I broke it off.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Then I fell in love with someone else, and I become a thing with someone else. But people who jazz your life don't just fade away, you call them, I called her. I called her to hook up.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">So I packed outside her school like I always do, and obviously she makes sure every damn person at the school entrance notices that she is the one who is getting picked up in that car.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">She walks slowly, she hits her high heels harder on the floor, she swings her hand bag, she drops stuff, she comes to the drivers side, she opens my door, she bends and hugs me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">In my mind am thinking, come on, am picking you, c we are going, why can't you use the damn co-drivers door for once, you seat down, we hug in the car. Why do you cause a scene? But I let her. It makes her happy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">So she walks round the car again, she opened the rare door, she puts her hand bag there, she then finally opens the co-drivers seat. We drive off. As if that's enough, she keeps opening her window completely. Wewe, they are tinted for a reason! I don't want people to see both of us in the car, I like privacy! But I let is slide...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Cause men, that girl. She is just fun to be around, she f inflates your ego like sh. As in the way she looks at me, it makes me feel like I have bigger balls than everyone else. And when you feel you have bigger balls than everyone else, you will act like you have bigger balls than everyone else, and if it barks like a duck, walks like a duck, looks like a duck, probably it's a boss.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">But then that's not even it, you know head, yes, getting head. You just lie there and she does her thing. The thing about head is that when someone gives you head, it's almost a selfless act, it's her saying, I will give you all the pleasure you want and not want anything in return. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"what should I get him? A wallet? A belt?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">No, that's what you get him. Head. Why I think it's selfless, and it's so nice, cause its the only time when you will just be lying there, and have an orgasm. And orgasm with no work. Relaxed! Woi!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"you remember those days, you used to love it Bobby..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Oh yes, I did.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"where are we going?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"we going to court..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"why?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"just to hang out, you don't want to keep me company?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">She looked at me, she laughed sarcastically. And it made me feel bad, she had never made me feel like that. I just crushed. But she was accompanying me, so I let it slide. We sat there for thirty minutes, she logged onto twira with my phone. And she twitted the whole time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">She only raise her eyes when she heard one of the witnesses talk about fake money, treated money that was used by Kenya Anti-Corruption Commission to trap some government official taking a bribe.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"they used a hidden cassette player and a mic to record the conversation..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">She whispered into my ears. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"shhh yes."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"wow, kumbe Kenya is not that backward."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">On our way back. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"we pass by Nakumatt, I want chocolate..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"No, we can't get chocolate today dear."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"Bobby, I want chocolate!"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"no... We can't get them now dear."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"okay, stop at Nakumatt I want to get Panadols."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">That's what she said. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"you have a head ache?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I took my eyes off the road to look at her for a second. She was lying. I think she figured if it was a head ache I would have to stop and get her some Panadol, then chocolate, yes and it's never chocolate. It's always like a gift box, sijui a designer water bottle, and any other sh she can find relevant to pick. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I decided I will drop her straight to school.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"so why did we go to court by the way? Jobless Corner?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Wtf?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"hehe (to hide that awkward comment) I want to learn the system better than any other law student."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And she laughed, oh she laughed. She laughed so much, she laughed mpaka I felt it. So I dropped her back to her school, pretended everything was okay, she did the hand-bag-thing-at-the-backseat, walk-to-the driver-seat-slow show-off-routine. I let her.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And when she was out of the car. I crushed. My heart fell down to my foot, and I drove away the fastest way I could. The girl who made me feel like I was the man, the girl that made me feel like I was worth selfless blows on her knees for hours made me feel stupid.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">She made me feel like, hey, yes, you are looking at becoming a great lawyer, but you still in law campus, you not even in f Kenya School of law, you haven't graduated, and here you are trying to put too much effort. Why cant you be like everyone else? What if you miss it all. What if? Then what? All that work you have put? Everyone now knows what you want to do, just fail and watch them laugh at you. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">"she laughed"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And the pain I would feel if the whole world laughed at me wouldn't even compare to what she made me feel. So you know what, I decided women want chocolate, men want sex, love probably comes after. So maybe we should be kinder to each other?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">No one knows the future, everyone wants something, and it requires commitment, no matter how odd and ridiculous what you want seems, no matter what, everyone will always trace there accomplishments to, perseverance to fight on, patience to disregard the way that girl laughed at me, and hope. Hope is what you see abstractly in your mind, not what you can physically see. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">And I have the energy to make it happen. She can laugh all she f wants!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br />
</span></div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-67549166041994895302012-08-08T06:59:00.001-07:002012-08-08T07:00:19.482-07:00The Bigger Picture <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">This is the sh you should learn from you fathers, your grand fathers, the father of your grand father, the mother of your grand fathers fathers, the mother of your grand mothers mothers mother. They should seat you around a fire and tell you about the blueblood culture. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div><br />
</div><div>The idea is to ensure, the sperm of your kids sperm, the sperm of your kids kids sperm brings a kid who will live in comfort, there basic needs met. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So that means, you should work to grow wealth that will sustain generations and generations to come. God forbid, just in case, one member of your family screws up, doesn't get a job, or gets fired, retrenched or such a normal calamity occurs. Will your lineage be able to sustain itself or become extinct? If you stored your wealth, then your lineage will be able to sustain itself, ensuring it doesn't take a step off the ladder in downward social mobility. (that means it will not find itself in the cycle of poverty) Not everyone can come out of that, it takes exceptional perseverance, exceptions resilience, and by the time you are down there your values have changed. How has it changed? You start buying stuff to assert yourselves, to look important, instead of actually getting stuff to help you survive comfortably.</div><div><br />
</div><div>No, don't go away, am on to something here. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Classic case, let's talk presidents. If you were a president, I mean of a country, a company that almost collects as much profit as a whole country's tax, you are supposed to store your wealth. Yes, it's as simple as that. You start by building a castle, like Lord Egerton's, but a castle of this time and age, maybe like Downtown Abbey (google that). </div><div><br />
</div><div>Why? Cause if you get f**** up kids, who squander everything, they will need a place to stay at least. Something that is almost permanent. Every single month, when you have a castle, you calculate your wealth & include it in that calculation. I am worth this & this, plus the castle. The idea is that it's good enough, strong enough, impressive enough to last generations. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Now this is where our generation gets it wrong. Land rover, range rover, Mercedes Benz, Subarus. Boss. This things don't get passed on, the fade like clothes, they lose value like flowers. Depreciate in value by ten percent from the moment you take it out from the shop. Let's pick a silent car, a car needs these things called controller arms, those get ruined, one cost around two hundred k. Hmmm the car has got to move, you sign the cheque! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Am not saying cars are bad, cars are an accessory, they are the symbol of success, they are skirt chasers, they are door openers, they are ego busters, they are umberellas, the are shagging get-aways, I mean back seats & sh. But at the end if the day, it's not good taste to store wealth in de-valuing cars, antique cars are something else though.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So you are president, your kids might not be president, cause that's just undemocratic, but your kids kids should be, or someone who comes though that blood line, why? Cause they need to give your wealth portfolio a ka-boost to last another century. Get what I mean? </div><div><br />
</div><div>So everyone is adding, everyone is contribution in your blood line, everyone is sustaining, anyone who screws up, has a cushion, anyone who is born unable to bring themselves up, has a cushion. They don't get a cushion when you live everything you make. They don't. They end up not having anything.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And it's not just that, there values change, there culture changes, they start thinking --> hey, life is short, have fun! And what do they do, they start buying stuff like everyone else to try to look like they own the world, but all they own are toys to show off. And when I say something like that, they say...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Imagine that's not important, it's not that serious. My friend it is serious, you are viewing this page using something you bought, the network you are using you paid for it, the food, the place you live, the medicine you buy, the consultants you see, the guard at the gate that keeps you safe, you not paying him with stone! He doesn't eat stones, transport to town and back. You f pay for it, so wealth is important. Wealth is not just money, it's anything of value, it's gold, it's stock, it's actual money, it's treasury bonds, it's houses, it's land, it's insurance it stuff that grows or remains constant. It's not fake leather seats, it's not cars that lose value, it's not over priced coffee, it's not drinks served at a premium! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Do you want the kids of your kids of your kids to find themselves in a position that will leave them food less, too broke to move, struggling, do you? If they are to struggle they should struggle to build what you have built. Not to start from scratch, starting from scratch requires too much effort.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's not just your kids, it's you, if you had a billion right now, you were in slippers & torn shorts, you will walk in the streets with a certain air. You will walk into a hotel with a different stance. When you accidentally trash the hotel room, you will not get depressed, you will know you can pay for that sh somehow. But if you lived from hand to mouth, with your valueless sh. If you got an accident & you were in court, you will pee on yourself like I see people pee. Cause yes you have a nice car, you wearing a nice suit, but that's just image nothing to back it up. And that's the begining of your getting ruined!</div><div><br />
</div><div>So there are these f*** who talk about some guy who was on BBA being a show off, that he is flossing with his mothers sh. Guess what, his kid will be flossing with the sh his grand mother built his father expanded; and if all works well the cycle will continue, and guess what, after ten generations of that...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Any you wonder why they say 1% of the world owns half the world, different values, different cultures, different thinking, different beliefs, the bigger picture.</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-43823679328950458332012-07-31T02:25:00.000-07:002012-07-31T02:25:58.972-07:00Before too late.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div>What happened to her? What damn happened to her. She used to be the most beautiful girl. What happened? Did she add too much weight? Lose to much weight? What happened to her?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Her genes happened I guess. Her fall came after her pride. I wish I could still not be shy to hold her hand as we walk the streets. I used to, I promise you I did, even after her beauty faded. That's the problem with growing up, you don't know what will grow what will not. If your going to have large ones, if you not. If he is going to grow bald. No one knows.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I tried to walk holding her hand, I actually did. But everyone started looking at me like I could do better than her. They started to wonder why I had choosen her. While there were so many prettier fish I could choose from. But as much as I tried not to think that, as much as I tried to hold her hand. I gave in to public pressure. We all do sometimes, don't act all perfect over here. You want to tell me you have never thought you are better than some people. Shame on you, shame on me!</div><div><br />
</div><div>I didn't even write the letter. It was written for me. My friends wrote it for me. And it described her fading beauty in detail. I wondered why they were so eager for me to damp her. I didn't care much, I liked her. But I had so many people around me, so many people throwing advice at me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So they wrote mean things to her on my behalf. They asked me to sign at the end of the letter. I signed. They left it in her desk, or her desk. I don't know. I forgot about it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Her eyes were red for weeks.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But I was young, I was a boy, I didn't understand. But it all comes crushing on me now. I know how it feels to be heart broken, I know how it feels to be scared. And I scared her. I didn't know I did. And when I got older, more mature, I stopped not knowing what I did. I suddenly knew how hurtles I was. But then I chose not to think about it. And I can do denial very well.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But when am here, or writing in my journal, I am forced to think through things. A word appears, after another, and it's a sentence, when it's a sentence before you know it, it's a paragraph, before you know it is a whole story. And it's a story of how you played with peoples' hearts, like they were toys.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"my heart is not a toy Bobby..."</div><div><br />
</div><div>She cries. I kiss her. I hold her. And we f*** No big deal. Make up s** brilliant! Years and years. Until one day when the worst happens.</div><div><br />
</div><div>One girl, just one, one girl that makes you change your ways after hurting her endlessly. You realize, she loves you. She really does, and all that time you have been treating her like trash. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You change your ways for her. Not realizing its too late; You change your ways. But it's almost as if you have exchanged roles, your hot when she is cold. So you surprise her with cappuccino with caramel from Java at work, you call her for parties, and declare she is your girl. You give her a relationship, the thing she has always wanted for the last six months that you been nini-ing her. You start to remember anniversaries, you start to remember her birthdays. She doesn't wait for you to pick up her up, you always early. You pick her calls before it rings.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You trust her so much, you exchange facebook passwords. She says she doesn't want to go through yours cause she doesn't want to break her heart. She knows I have changed, she trusts me. I have always trusted her, always, she has been the angel, I have not been an angel. She is pure, and she is the one who finally inspired me to become pure. And I had changed for her, finally. But it was too late.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Cause after the inbox treads to her friends where they discuss me in detail, where she declares her love for me to a third party. You can see the date stamp, years ago. After those messages, at some moment, you find a message about a guy, and a bathtub, and her opening her door with her towel on. And them doing it. Then the guy leaves and goes to work. Then immediately after, there is some other guy at her door. She isn't even done showering, she lets him in, as in she really let's him in, two in a day. Come on.</div><div><br />
</div><div>That's got to kill a man. It had to be over.</div><div><br />
</div>What happened to her? What damn happened to her. She used to be the most beautiful girl. What happened? Did she add too much weight? Lose to much weight? What happened to her? I know. I just started to hate her, and now I see everything wrong about her. But am too blame, aren't I? Am the one who hurt her first? <div><br />
</div><div><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div> </div></div><div><br />
</div></span>Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-67328629690620139302012-07-27T18:12:00.001-07:002012-07-27T18:12:36.192-07:00Star your show.Nothing is going to stop me. No, not even the milk in my balls, not the fillings of a bra. Nothing is going to stop me, not gold coated jewels, I want the real deal. I want my dream. Am not settling for half of it.<br />
<br />
Am not settling for half a drive way, I want to drive miles into my compound, a round about in the middle, a fountain. A big one. Am not settling for half of that. I want the whole deal. Am not going to settle for a half marriage, half love, distributed kisses. <br />
<br />
...just imagine if my apartment had big windows, running from the floor to the ceiling. Taste the sun rays splash in. Clear, clean, you can taste the beauty. <br />
<br />
That's that. But right now, let's go shopping. There I am holding the trolley, pushing it. Looking around at the shelves, one hand driving the shopping trolley, the other on the phone. Pick peanut butter, pick chocolate spread for bread. Then on second thought return it up the shelf. I need to be healthy right...<br />
<br />
So cottage cheese should do. I decide. Drop it in my trolley.<br />
<br />
Wow...<br />
<br />
I drop my phone. The battery is inches away from the screen, the battery cover is even further. The noise got her attention. Shoot. She saw me.<br />
<br />
Am on one knee. Am trying to feel the ground with my hands, my eyes on her, instead collecting the pieces of my phone.<br />
<br />
But her beauty is paralyzingly. I think she noticed. She giggled, she swag her shopping basket. She smiled. Then she looked away.<br />
<br />
She walked away, she was wearing a dress. Maybe I shouldn't call it a dress. It's sort of a shuka she just put on herself; with a belt. Perfect dorm. She wrapped herself with it. It balloons where it is supposed to. It's so sheer, yet so loose. When she moves you can see the jelly vibrations move under. <br />
<br />
For a second time froze. Nothing else matter, not who saw me staring. Not who saw me smiling. Dropping my phone. <br />
<br />
"potatoes two kilos please..."<br />
<br />
I was at the vegetable section. I had to move on, like we all have to move on when we see some one perfect. Someone attractive, someone that makes everyone look like just people. And makes you and her look like, you know how to dress better, you more cooler than everyone else. You were meant for each other.<br />
<br />
"three tomatoes..."<br />
<br />
As I picked one onion. Helped the shop attendant place it in the plastic bags before putting them on the scale. <br />
<br />
My phone wasn't on my ear any more, it was in my pocket. Forgotten. All of a sudden, I was hungry. I was doing things with my hands, picking fruits, oranges, feeling whether they were ripe. It was all natural. I was salivating. <br />
<br />
I was salivating for her. <br />
<br />
I started to push my trolley away from the vegetable section. <br />
<br />
"hey, man... Customer, your potatoes!"<br />
<br />
"oh"<br />
<br />
I went back for them. All of a sudden I was in a rush. To shop? Maybe I was trying to get close to her? Look for her, she must have been still in the shop. Is that what attraction is? Magnetism? Attraction as the world itself. <br />
<br />
She was picking shower gel, I stopped a distance away. I coughed. She turned. She smiled again. I smiled back. And my heart took a flight, my breathing took a pump. <br />
<br />
Why are you staring at shower gel? I could see the green one, I think it was Fa, for men. It had tangerine, energetic, revitalizing. They were mostly packed in black, blue, green, guy colors. Then the women's were cream, sensational, yorgut, pink, white, creamy. <br />
<br />
She moved away. I waited a little before I moved too.<br />
<br />
She was about fifteen people away from the counter. I was too. But the queue next to hers. Parallel. We were stiff. I was looking at her from the corner of my eye. She was looking at me at the corner of her eye. <br />
<br />
It's like we were totally aware of each other. While everyone else was just in a hurry to shop and do nothing else.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
I shut the door behind me. She looked more beautiful at closer range. Her scent was dreamy, it was as if she had worn the most wonderful perfume at one moment. Then at another moment, it wasn't there. She was (breathing in deep, breathing out deep) I didn't have her phone number. I knew she was in college. I didn't know which, but I asked her for her name. But she looked nice her right knee on the right end of my sofa seat-on cushion, her left knee on the left end of the cushion edge. I was somewhere in the middle, her dress was somewhere close to her shoulder. <br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
No am kidding. She didn't smile at me. Was it cause I didn't drop my phone? Should i have dropped my phone as a compliment? You see what happens when you live like everyone. Your story is as flat as everyones'. I don't want a flat story, you don't want a flat story. You want me to have smiled at her, and she at me. Or even better, I smiled at her, she didn't smile at me. I said hi, then she slapped me. Then everyone in the shop got involved. Then Bobby tried to out of that mess by...Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-72291047614480044642012-07-26T15:05:00.000-07:002012-07-26T15:05:05.328-07:00Losers at night clubsHave you watched One Tree Hill? Did you watch that television series. Everyone had gotten intimate with everyone in the group at some point. Its the twenty first century, we are all friends in a group like the television series Friends. Yes, television influences relationships, dating has become a global culture, friends with benefits will be soon. Oh & thanks to the inspiration of television couples for that! No? <br />
<br />
So we were a crowd, a crowd of tight friends, like Friends, all ready for an awesome night out. The club, Enigma, leather seats, glass tables, lounge, cocktail specialist, sofas in the shisha room. Six chics, four guys. Amongst us, some had dated each other & were fighting, but we still hang out together. They talked to everyone but each other. <br />
<br />
Obviously they sat furthest from each other. Usually, you wouldnt notice the friction between them. <br />
<br />
She pulled his hand, the girl in a navy blue dress. I like that girl, she knows i gaze at her, not stare, i gaze at her with dreamy eyes. But she pulled his hand from the seat. I was sure he, being my friend and knowing i had the hots for Miss. navy-blue dress. He would calmly turn down the offer to dance.<br />
<br />
So i sipped a big one. I laughed a fake one. I pretended not to mind, that his hands was on her waist. Her bosom was close to his chest. If her sharps were erect, they would have felt his chest. But i pretended i didn't notice. That i didn't mind.<br />
<br />
"Bobby, you having a good time..."<br />
<br />
"pardon?"<br />
<br />
"a-r-e y-o-u having a goooooood time?"<br />
<br />
"oh yes, yes!"<br />
<br />
Yeah right! I was having a really really good time! Nkt. I guessed everyone around the table noticed. Perhaps my eyes were swollen red with envy? Jealousy? Frustration? Was it the reason why they were asking me if i was having a good time? I had to hide it. I couldnt let anyone know i was hurting. So i started playing with my phone.<br />
<br />
"wow, you can dance!"<br />
<br />
She said. She was glowing, a little sweat. The guy really sweaty, sipping the beer like he was thirsty, like it was water. <br />
<br />
F f f. I watched, i died. I squeezed my eyes shut. Then i opened them again. Was i trying to disbelieve what i was seeing. I think she noticed. <br />
<br />
"we dance?"<br />
<br />
She pulled my hand. Her hand covered in sweat from another man. Why was i smiling? How low could i go? Why was i smiling at her. That finally she wanted to dance with me? As a second option? How low could i go? <br />
<br />
"no..."<br />
<br />
I was blushing like a child. Her hand was on mine. She pulled me forcefully, i almost toppled over the long bar stool, but i didn't cause i almost toppled over the table, but i didn't topple it over, i just shoke it so that all the drinks on the table poured. Glasses broke. <br />
<br />
"Bobby!"<br />
<br />
Everyone was mad for a second. But they were just drinks, its not like they wouldn't be washed away from there clothes. Its not like i had messed the floor to our table with broken glasses!<br />
<br />
"we dance... Sorry."<br />
<br />
After the mess was cleared by the waiter, i stood up to dance. But it was too awkward to dance. After that incident, something are just meant not to happen, especially when glasses break & things pour when you attempt to. So i declined. I sat down, then watched them go back to dance dance. She bends over, he holds her waist. She bends over, he holds her waist and thrust forward. I feel as if being buried alive would be more humane, but it wouldn't, would it? Her dress lifts up a little. Se tries to pull it down, but she is smiling. <br />
<br />
I decide i hate her. But i don't. He puts his hand on her back. I hate him, hell, i hate everyone!<br />
<br />
She stands up, she faces him. She puts his hands on her waist. He puts his around his neck. But he removes her hands from his neck, gently, ati sasa cause he has dignity, my foot. Do you think he did that cause he cause knows i like her? His sh.<br />
<br />
What the f are you doing man!<br />
<br />
Everyone is having a good time. If i didn't have two left feet, maybe i would slice. What would you do? Thats what people do on the dance floor, they slice. But only people who can dance. Too bad i cant do anything but be a cartoon on the dance floor.<br />
<br />
I don't want to yawn, cause i know if i do. I might cry. And the people around me will not understand. I will no longer be that guy they put on the pedestal. That guy who knows everything about howtogetlaid. <br />
<br />
So i don't yawn.<br />
<br />
There is a girl across the table next to our table. She is wearing a head gear. So, already she has lost points on that. She is not like the girl in the navy blue dress. But at least her, she isnt sweaty.<br />
<br />
I wink at her. Cause when you feel as hurt as i did, you are brave enough to wink. I dont look away when she makes eye contact, cause when you look away, then look back at her you look like a creep.<br />
<br />
The first few seconds you make eye contact with her, you approach holding eye contact and say hi. She then thinks you are confident. Nailed it.<br />
<br />
Next thing i remember is for the first time in my life i felt what being high was. I felt what being drunk was. I remember starting to get really inappropriate then nothing else.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
I found myself being helped to walk by three people. Two were my friends, guys the ones i went out with. The other one was a girl. The one we were out with, who never spoke to me when we were out. But i sat next to her.<br />
<br />
"no, not the carpet!"<br />
<br />
I couldnt feel myself. I remember complaining that they shouldn't step on my beautiful carpet with there dirty muddy shoes. Really? Was i complaining? And they had gone out of there way to carry me home. <br />
<br />
They put me on the bed, one removed my shoes. The other placed the pillow right under my head. <br />
<br />
"Bob, the key is on the window pane..."<br />
<br />
"whattttttt?"<br />
<br />
"the keyyyyyy is on the window pane, we will lock the door and leave throw the keys into the house through the window ..."<br />
<br />
I closed my eyes cause it felt nice closing them.<br />
<br />
"text me tht..."<br />
<br />
"what?"<br />
<br />
"text me that so that i remember..."<br />
<br />
The moment they were out. I half sobered up. Why does that happen? I tried to find my way to the kitchen. Wow do i love that i have a corridor. It really helped cause i could suspend my body with my hands between the two walls. I got to the kitchen, leaned on the fridge, that door was heavy, but i opened it. I got a bottle of keringet. And downed it all at once. Then i threw the bottle on the wall. And the lid to the sink. I was still mad.<br />
<br />
I walked out slowly supporting myself. I checked three times that i had closed the fridge. <br />
<br />
Shoot, my carpet! The carpet has a foot print of dirt on its edge. I dropped onto it like a bag of potatoes. My phone was there. Checked my messages. <br />
<br />
-the key is at your window pane. Call me when you wake up!<br />
<br />
I forwarded the text, minus the last part. <br />
<br />
-the key is at your window pane. <br />
<br />
She called. <br />
<br />
"are you sure? You aren't sober!"<br />
<br />
"i am sure..."<br />
<br />
"okay, am coming."<br />
<br />
I took my wallet out of my pocket. I really hoped i had one. I really hoped i had one, i did. One Durex. Yessssssss! And i slept right there on the carpet. Very far away from the stain.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
When morning came. I felt aweful. I woke up alone but i saw her head gear. I remembered putting on the rubber, i remember not enjoying it as much. I remember trying not to come. But then i remembered, hey am high. So i am forgiven for coming too early. So i let. Then i slept. Then i complained to her about the girl in the navy blue dress. When she was offended, i started to tell her how tight she was, how nice it felt, how she had bigger curves than the girl in the stupid navy blue dress, she laughed.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Did i tell you where i found her in the morning? I found her in the sitting room. She was wrapped up in my bedsheets watching television taking coffee. <br />
<br />
"i need to go to court..."<br />
<br />
"okay."<br />
<br />
I showered. The head ache didnt go. I felt sick. I felt like throwing up. But i needed a distraction. So i needed to get out of the house. And what other place to go, than the place I will win. A place I run the show, no, not the dance floor. The court floor.<br />
<br />
I wore a blue stripped shirt, cause it looked ironed, even when it doesnt it looks nicely raggedly, wore a pair of black suit trousers. Black shoes, i was glad they were polished. I sprayed my cologne, brushed my teeth, rinsed with my mouth wash so that i could feel better. <br />
<br />
"can i stay, i will bring you the keys in town..."<br />
<br />
I hesistated. But what the hell. <br />
<br />
"sure!"<br />
<br />
And now am in court. And suddenly i feel at ease. What i thought was the high court, was the chief magistrate court. And i have been sitting there listening not knowing for so long!<br />
<br />
But now am in the high court. Am not on the dance floor. Am where I win. Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-1629353953411749192012-07-22T19:17:00.001-07:002012-07-22T19:17:44.397-07:00...team heart & mind, no matter your temperament!“Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert<br />
<br />
Am I a slave to my emotions? They say we make the worst decision when we are emotional. Did I make the worst decision yesterday?<br />
<br />
"hello..."<br />
<br />
"hello, baby leave me... Just leave me..."<br />
<br />
"what's wrong? Do you really want me to leave you?"<br />
<br />
I can tell her shock, I can tell the sadness in her voice.<br />
<br />
"I love you baby, but you going to leave me..."<br />
<br />
"why do you always say that?"<br />
<br />
I've had such a long day. Am so depressed. Am so sad. And they are affecting all my decisions. Now why am I trying to push the people I care for the most out of my life. I know...<br />
<br />
"I don't want to drag you in my mess baby, of late I don't think I have brought you any happiness, all the time we talk am complaining, almost crying, crushing..."<br />
<br />
"but babe, am here for the good and the bad."<br />
<br />
I am quiet, for a while. I feel myself thinking I want to hang up, but I don't. Am too numb. I start to wonder, how long can I stick with someone who is always complaining, always crushing, always almost crying... I can only take so much. Why is she here? She hasn't given up on me yet. I would if I was her.<br />
<br />
"...but babe, am here for the good and bad."<br />
<br />
And it just humbles me, puts me in a place I feel undeserving of her love, I feel am taking the most out of this relationship, and she is losing out. I feel like am not doing enough. Normally, it would be a good thing. But it's not when you really love someone, cause when you really love someone you are the one who wants to do more for them.<br />
<br />
"...hello."<br />
<br />
It's almost a minute since anyone said a word, but she still on the line. I hang up. She calls back, I don't feel like picking up. I don't feel like doing crap. <br />
<br />
Maybe it's cause I've been served a piece of hell of late by life, such stress am getting head aches, and I never, I never ever get head aches. My eyes are painful, I don't know what's up. My thoughts are heavy, am mad, am mad at the world, am angry at a lot of things, people. I cared, and was betrayed in the worst ways imaginable. <br />
<br />
But since am well read, I know what happens when that happens. One gets emotional, and that emotion clouds judgement, makes one make bad decisions. Am i intoxicated with too much negative emotion that I don't realize it's a bad thing am doing watching her call and not picking up? Is it that am making a bad decision by deciding to drive instead of taking a cab home? They say you shouldn't drive drunk... But I promise you it's as bad to drive drunk as to drive angry. It clouds your judgement, that don't care attitude makes you become more daring. I can see my legs loose on the pedals, its as if they are trembling out of anger but am trying to get them to press the break.<br />
<br />
My body is reacting as if I have just been in a fight. So what do I do... I don't try to calm down, cause I don't want to calm down. Sometimes you don't just want to stop crying, right? I didn't want to calm down. I don't try to calm down. I just try to think rationally, what would I normally do if I wasn't feeling this way? I would call her back when I see her missed call, I would think about her beauty, it usually comes me down...<br />
<br />
...calling babe.<br />
<br />
Teeeeeeet. Teeeeeeet. Teeeeet.<br />
<br />
...babe not available.<br />
<br />
I try redialing.<br />
<br />
Teeeeeeeet. Teeeeeeet.<br />
<br />
"hello..."<br />
<br />
I hear her voice. I calm down. It's like I was holding my breath until I heard her voice. Hearing her voice I can breath.<br />
<br />
"...I love your eyes, remember when they reflected the ocean that day at that hotel in North Coast?"<br />
<br />
"...babe are you okay."<br />
<br />
I ignore. Cause this relationship cannot be all about me complain about my problems. So, I ignore what she said, go on.<br />
<br />
"I have your pink tshirt, you sprayed it with your perfume when you wore it..."<br />
<br />
"you wear it?"<br />
<br />
"no, pink tshirt...are you serious, babe how the f would I. Wear a pink tshirt."<br />
<br />
She laughs.<br />
<br />
"I wear yours..."<br />
<br />
"yes, I gave you a blue shirt, obviously you will wear it... But pink babe, I can't even try to fit it, it has glitters on the print, come on!"<br />
<br />
"but it's to sleep..."<br />
<br />
"babe, if I wear it, I might start having periods like a girl."<br />
<br />
She laughs. She is happy.<br />
<br />
"I put it on the pillow of the left side of the bed, when I wake up it's usually the first thing I see, sometimes I feel the scent soaking up as I take in fresh air in bed in the morning. It reminds me to call you."<br />
<br />
"ohh, so sweet, so it just stays in your bed..."<br />
<br />
"yes! When I make my bed, I crumple it under one of the pillows."<br />
<br />
"wow!"<br />
<br />
"it's cause I miss you, and actually love you..."<br />
<br />
"but am sometimes worried, I used to be very lucky, of late I don't feel as lucky..."<br />
<br />
"I know babe."<br />
<br />
"but I know things will get better, I always win..."<br />
<br />
I don't know whether am trying to convince her, or convince myself that I always win, that I will win, that the sun will shine & it will be blissful, like it was before, even better.<br />
<br />
Bye. <br />
<br />
Bye.<br />
<br />
At that very moment, I feel proud of not taking out my anger senselessly on the acceleration paddle, on the conversation with my girl. Emotion is a bad thing then, cause what if I just left her, or told her to leave me. Or made her leave me? What if... Wouldn't I be more f? Wasn't it wise to suppress my tragedy-generated emotions to keep this relationship working? Yes. I believe.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But that's just one side of the story.<br />
<br />
"wapi pesa wewe?"<br />
<br />
"lipa, kila mtu amaelipa!"<br />
<br />
We were about six in the matatu, not counting the conductor, the driver and me. Mainly mamas, I mean big women, the ones you know have kids. The guy seated infront of me was clean, but he was wearing faded clothes. He looked like a thief, but he was too mpole to be one. He was the one who hadn't paid.<br />
<br />
"lipa wewe wacha ujinga..."<br />
<br />
The guy just sat there oblivious of what the conductor was saying. And he got louder when he realized that the passenger was a quiet one. He wasn't retaliating. Isn't that what people do? When you seem quiet and harmless, they try to exert there power over you?<br />
<br />
He was doing exactly that. I was seated there. Watching all these,like everyone was.<br />
<br />
"simamisha gari..."<br />
<br />
The driver stopped. The conductor pushed the guy out of the matatu. The guy fell by the road side, after being pulled inhumanly from the matatu. He didn't resist imagine. <br />
<br />
And when he was on the ground, we all giraffed our necks to see what was happening. He was slapping the guy; a man on the ground! He was getting into his pocket; a man on the ground! trying to get what was in the mans wallet. The wallet of a defenseless man on the ground!<br />
<br />
I felt a rush of anger. I felt my legs tremble, like I wanted to fight. <br />
<br />
"mwacheeee mwacheeee!"<br />
<br />
"mwacheeee mwacheeee!"<br />
<br />
"mwacheeee mwacheeee!"<br />
<br />
"woiy."<br />
<br />
"Woiyee"<br />
<br />
The mamas in the car started yelling, complaining. And I was full of rage, I was angry, I had wanted to pay for him, but I though maybe I would look pretentious, or the conductor, the driver, the passengers might feel najiskia. But when we left him lying on the ground.<br />
<br />
I felt disgust, I felt dirty, I felt angry, I felt my legs shake. I felt ready to throw a fist at that idiot conductor. What if that guy has sick... What if? Instead if helping him you just f slap him. What the f. That's what I was feeling!<br />
<br />
They say making emotional decision is bad. It clouds judgement, I have read that over and over again. But I want to be original enough, and be smart enough to decide to think for myself things. And what I think right now, what I thought then, sometimes making an emotional decision is good.<br />
<br />
I should have made an emotional decision, acted on impulse, which probably would have made me cause a scene, I would have given that conductor a piece of my lawyer mind, I should have shown him how much an idiot he was for doing what he did. Come on, the mamas complained! Why the f didn't I get involved? I still regret to this day, and I don't want to stop to regretting. Cause the next time I see such idiotic behaviour, I will fight back for someone who isn't fighting back for themselves.<br />
<br />
Even if it is just yelling. The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions. Team heart & mind, no matter your temperament, ama? <br />
<br />
“The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it...” ― Nicholas Sparks<br />
<br />
I will heal my heart next time, even if it means just yelling!Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-58876310508297330592012-07-22T08:34:00.001-07:002012-07-22T08:34:19.021-07:00Misery loves company.The air is cool, my bladder is full, I can see the ash rooms right ahead but am not in the mood. The scenery is nice, but a little cold, I can see the whole town from here, up on the balcony. The tables have linen on, the umbrellas are brown. The glass windows are tinted green, the perfect much.<br />
<br />
Thinking I would be happy, cause am here, with the best coffee in town yet to be served, the nicest restaurant in town is normal. But life is not always what it seems.<br />
<br />
I am here alone, with my iPad cause am running away from my friends.<br />
<br />
They weren't I'll intended but they s<br />
<br />
Am that guy, no she is not that girl, the depressed one, the one always sad. Am that guy, am that guy who is alone.<br />
<br />
"hey what are you up to?"<br />
<br />
"...am in town?"<br />
<br />
"you busy?"<br />
<br />
"am with my friends."<br />
<br />
I hear laughter in the back ground. <br />
<br />
"Can I pick you up?"<br />
<br />
"no am dropping them home."<br />
<br />
Her folks let her drive the Prado. Happy, girl, I no longer pick her up. She is no longer there when I call. She is busy, she's moved on.<br />
<br />
"when will you be done?"<br />
<br />
"5:30, hapo six."<br />
<br />
"it's okay, lets make it another day."<br />
<br />
I want her to tell me, hey, no, no come join us. I want her to tell me, hey, come, let's share a bed. I know that always makes you feel alright. I want her to keep me company cause otherwise this self destructive thoughts might kill me. Literally. <br />
<br />
She is quiet.<br />
<br />
"so will make it another day. Bye."<br />
<br />
"bye."<br />
<br />
Not a word more, not a word less. I scroll down and up.<br />
<br />
"hey."<br />
<br />
"I called like three, four times."<br />
<br />
"sorry, was busy..."<br />
<br />
"where you?"<br />
<br />
"at home."<br />
<br />
"what are you upto?"<br />
<br />
"...just chilling."<br />
<br />
"am driving there already."<br />
<br />
"no... You can't come now."<br />
<br />
"why?"<br />
<br />
"cause I don't want to go to work, tomorrow is Monday."<br />
<br />
I hang up without saying bye. I need to preserve some of my pride. The first to leave the conversation. I wear my seat belt as I drive, I don't talk on the phone while I drive. But am at a little over a hundred. The stereo is loud. And I text.<br />
<br />
-okay let me turn back to town!<br />
<br />
She texts back- I know you in the house. <br />
<br />
I throw my phone on the passengers seat angry. I figure it will bounce back and break. I contemplate on whether to press the breaks, park by the road side, pick it up. See whther it is broken. Am shocked, I actually stop, put the hazard lights on and check it. It's alright!<br />
<br />
Even when am as self distracting as driving fast while texting. I still care not to end my life in a crash. <br />
<br />
I scroll up and down again.<br />
<br />
Phone rings. Phone rings. Phone rings on her end. She doesn't pick up. We were to meet at four. It's five, thirty. She will be a no show.<br />
<br />
"hello?"<br />
<br />
"hello?"<br />
<br />
I look at the screen. Oh, sorry, it didn't even go through. I look at the road. Change the gears from automatic, to manual. I press the accelerator, to the floor.<br />
<br />
Do you know what happened?<br />
<br />
Guess?<br />
<br />
I felt nice. Overtaking cars. Hooting at tuk tuks, bullying them. Doing the same to matatus, it felt nice. <br />
<br />
All of a sudden I decide to take a turn from the high way one way, the one close to the pretty Cfc Stanbic bank branch, the one next to KCB, and I take another left. I get to bank of Africa, the big building. I look up from the windscreen and that's when I see the umbrellas, and the glass. I've been here a couple of times, am happy. Coffee. <br />
<br />
The only think I do is hope that's have my iPad. Cause she always keeps me company, she is reliable, not like people in my life. Sorry to say, am high on emotion, this is as good as drunk talk.<br />
<br />
I want to get out of the car, but Drakes song is playing, Marvin's Room, which started to play right after ColdPlay, I used to rule the world... Viva La Vida. I can't not let that song play. <br />
<br />
I look out of the window, I see some very beautiful girls in a crowd, with there friends. They seem to be having fun. I should go say wassup. But then I look at there shoes and they look awesome but a little too loud. Like they are trying. And I change my mind. I stay in the car. <br />
<br />
One turns and she has a big a. She makes my p rise a little. I reach for my phone.<br />
<br />
I scroll down my phone book.<br />
<br />
"hey?"<br />
<br />
"hiiiiiiiiii" <br />
<br />
She is happy to hear my voice. But she is like two years older than me, but also two times hotter than every girl I know in this town. <br />
<br />
"so what are you up to?"<br />
<br />
"imagine jobo"<br />
<br />
I really hate it when people say that. Jobo. Sh. But I say it too. <br />
<br />
"what time are you leaving?"<br />
<br />
"around six."<br />
<br />
"see you then."<br />
<br />
I hang up. I get out of the car. I got upstairs. The guard at the door runs that thing through me to search for a grenade I think. Yeah, it's my hair. I know. He seems my iPad. He stops searching, I take a step in, he calls me again. I freeze. He does his search again, it's my button. I stare at him. <br />
<br />
"fuck you... Ntakulipua, sh."<br />
<br />
Okay that's not what I told him. I walk in. <br />
<br />
I take the stairs. I feel nice, now that am there, ready to blog. My release. I ony see white folks around. With their stupid Apple sh. <br />
<br />
I seat outside, on the nice seats. I make another call.<br />
<br />
"hey?"<br />
<br />
"wassup?"<br />
<br />
"what are you up to?"<br />
<br />
"am just at home."<br />
<br />
"am coming to get you in fifteen minutes."<br />
<br />
"make that half an hour"<br />
<br />
"ah, it's okay then, let I will see you next time."<br />
<br />
I don't know what is wrong with me. I can't even have the patience to wait that long and probably I will send even more time picking her up.<br />
<br />
"we do a b*** f*** I've missed those twins."<br />
<br />
She doesn't say anything back.<br />
<br />
But she send me a text half an hour later. Telling me she really hates my mood swings, she also texts me telling me she is already ready. She doesn't know why I was making a fuss. But am not in the mood anymore. But am I not?<br />
<br />
So... These f***s haven't brought my coffee. Or even come to ask me what I want?<br />
<br />
I get in the restaurant, out of the balcony. <br />
<br />
"nimekuja hapa ndo mnione."<br />
<br />
I don't know why I talked in swahili. Maybe cause the people there are...<br />
<br />
"give me a cappuchino..."<br />
<br />
"you take visa right?"<br />
<br />
She keeps looking at my card, I figure it's my I.D she wants. I place my I.D on top of it. <br />
<br />
"200 bob using Visa. The ATM is just down stairs"<br />
<br />
"how much should I spend for you to run my card?"<br />
<br />
...she is quiet. Smiling like a little girl. Am wearing a smile but inside I want to shout her hair off her head. <br />
<br />
"give me two coffees then."<br />
<br />
I go back to blogging, writing something on my tab. She still isn't picking my card. So I look at her, give her my audience f again. <br />
<br />
"how much do you want me to spend?"<br />
<br />
"1000 bob and more..."<br />
<br />
Really? You can't me to order four f coffees and am seated alone. Really? I eat her often, I bring my date here often, but I'd forgotten am not in Mombasa or Nairobi, where it's all credit card everywhere.<br />
<br />
"there is a Visa place down stairs..."<br />
<br />
"those are like eight fleets of stairs down!"<br />
<br />
I don't want your coffee that badly. B****! So I walk out, with no presence that am coming back. That's the first time I've been disappointed there. She tells me that they will be charged by the bank, I tell her they will not. I tell her then f hick your prices. I don't through bad words though, cause I bring my dates here. And I tip them well. I don't want to be in bad books for no good reason. But for a good reason, f it.<br />
<br />
-I've left, those fucks don't take credit card. <br />
<br />
I text the chic at work.<br />
<br />
I get to the car, I think about editing this. And think too much work. Spelling mistakes, so what, grammar errors so what. Those red lines telling me to correct sh. They are just that sh. Misery loves company, and my iPad gives me the best. It's where I write on. So don't f touch it. Am emotionally attached to my words, to this device. It keeps me sane. <br />
<br />
Misery loves company, and you are my company iPad. Oh yes yu are, oh yes you are. Bye!Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-13534495365004220082012-07-20T19:03:00.002-07:002012-07-20T19:03:22.257-07:00Hobbies, not bizzWhen they love you, it's boring. When they don't love you, you want them to. When you are beautiful, you don't need to hear it, you can't stand to hear it! When you not, you die to here it. And when you get to hear it, you do anything to hear it, unthinkable things.<br />
<br />
But you never think about the unthinkable things you do to hear sweet thing. Or to feel worthy. When you have to many people in your life, you are unstable. You are trying to compensate for something. When you have too little, you are lonely, you are unpopular. If you are unpopular, you are unattractive.<br />
<br />
When you are normal, you aren't special. When you are special, you aren't normal, when you are special and not normal, then you start becoming normal. You try to hold on to what made you awesome. But you are fading away, so you start to do things to keep yourself from fading away.<br />
<br />
When you write good posts, they are happy, when you don't they are not. If they stumble upon this one and feel its shit. They might never come back again.<br />
<br />
But that's why it's a hobby. Who cares? Come? Go. I will still be here. It makes me happy. Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-1173594008115637012012-07-20T18:35:00.000-07:002012-07-20T18:35:05.354-07:00Quitters never win, if it is walking the plank on a sinking ship, so be it!I don't like bad people, I don't like them at all. I know it is easy to be bad. Sometimes being bad is simply being unable to put yourself in another's shoes.<br />
<br />
I haven't gone a day hungry. I haven't been without a roof over my head, I have never. And sometimes that makes you arrogant. When you have everything. When a beggar tells you, hey I have nothing to eat. You sneer at them and think in your mind, if you had worked hard, if you had acted smart, you wouldn't been here by the road side begging for food.<br />
<br />
So, I admit it, I have been heartless. I have been careless, I have played with women's hearts like they were toys. I have manipulated people. I have used peoples weakness to serve my own pleasures. I have been nasty, not too nasty cause I think am a good person by all standards. But I feel proud saying that, and pride is not a good trait. It comes before a fall.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be the guy who raises up his hand when they ask for the most humble person to raise his hand.<br />
<br />
I have walked the streets without a care, I have done as I please with total disregard for everything & everyone. But life has happened. And I kind of now get what it feels to be hungry. Even if I was not more than hungry for a day, I get what it feels.<br />
<br />
I get what it feels to be not loved, I get what it feels to have no one to give you her heart. I get what it feels, and I wish it upon no one. Okay, maybe I wish it upon some people. I can't believe that now I have enemies. And am supposed to treat them like my friends. NkT! <br />
<br />
Let's leave those heavy thoughts, let's look forward. <br />
<br />
I am not myself, I have not been myself. Has stuff ever happened to you that robbed you of the bliss you have when you don't have a care in the world. A simple day where you have tea with your loved ones, worry about exams, the simple stuff. Have you had days you would crave such mundane stress? I have, it's like a piece of hell I have been feeling for the past few days...<br />
<br />
But you know what?<br />
<br />
Am crying now. Am on the ground now, am ruined now. I am feeling what going mad might feel. But am holding on. I am so holding on I don't have time for anything else for holding on. <br />
<br />
Have you ever had such heavy thoughts you landed on your bed, you tried to cry yourself to sleep but the tears don't come out. And crying is usually a relief. The relief is not here.<br />
<br />
But do you know what I do in spite of this all.<br />
<br />
I do everything I am supposed to do. I fight on, I don't crush. Even if I crush, I stand up like a stone, I take a shower even if I can't tell the difference whether the water is hot or cold. I eat my breakfast even though I can't find pleasure in the taste of chocolate choco pops cereals mixed with weetabix without sugar to try keep the diabetes a bay. I can't taste them, but I still slice the bananas and soak them up. Cause I got to be healthy, even though am dead inside.<br />
<br />
I got to pick my perfume, I got to spray it on me. I got to pick my tie tuck, or tie pin. I have to wear it just right. Comb my hair, apply gel but hope to apply mousse cause I hear it's better. <br />
<br />
I do this things, cause I can't let myself stay on the ground. If it is to crawl I will crawl. I know the days will be better in the future. Seven months from now, even shorter. Seven years from now, seventy years from now, I will still be hear. And I will wish at this time, I didn't break down, I didn't break my routine. Pray in the shower, start thinking about how to solve my everyday problems when I start on the shampoo. Right now am thinking of a water bottle, this bed is too cold. The best ideas come while I am in the shower. When Eureka was in the shower.<br />
<br />
Get good music to play in the back ground as I write on my blog. Head phones, the tune comes me down. I don't want to crush, I am holding on. Cause I know the path for my life.<br />
<br />
Am not shallow like you are. I don't just have big jobs as my dream. In fact, that is not as important as dreaming of how I intend to be a better person. Dreaming of how I can be an angel. Maybe it's cause I don't understand that when one is hungry for things they tend to become heartless, and things become important. I never wish to be like that, if living in the oblivion of believing that it's better to be an angel than all else. Don't wake me up!<br />
<br />
I don't dream of having a good attitude more than I dream of having a good job. Cause I have wanted to learn and I've learnt a lot.<br />
<br />
I've learnt that the more friends you have, past a certain number, the more shallow your relationship with them is. The less friends you have, the more likely you have a deep relationship with them. The more dependable you are to them. The more important they feel, and everyone want to feel needed. <br />
<br />
But I have also learnt that, all that may be incorrect. And my mind is opened.<br />
<br />
Life is quite something. Don't you agree?<br />
<br />
I have hurt. Am not sure I will recover.<br />
<br />
But I will not let my life die. I will do what am supposed to, I will change the music on my iPod to happier music, cause I said I will do that in my last post. I will prefer Jaguars to Range Rovers cause I don't like to be everyone. But I will still love to get my girl diamonds, yes, I know, it's a cliche, but isn't that the point. That guy actually gets his girl diamonds. <br />
<br />
I want to stand for what is right, I want my charm to be being good. Being the good guy. I want to be the guy who will be driving alone on the high way at 2am in the morning. I want to be the guy who will ask you...<br />
<br />
"hey, can I help?"<br />
<br />
And you would be there stuck on the road for over an hour. At a dark place, afraid. And I want to be the guy who will let you in his car, take you to the nearest town, rent a towing truck for you. Drive back with the towing truck. <br />
<br />
Get out of the car, ruin my suit trying to help the break down guys to attract your car to the towing truck. While you will be seated on the passengers seat of my car calling everyone you love you okay. I want to be the guy who will make sure you are okay.<br />
<br />
I want to be the guy who will drop you and your car at hotel nearby. I want to be the guy who will be powerful enough to get ex-Dt Dobie mechanics to fix your car during the night as you sleep in the hotel. <br />
<br />
I want you to wake up in the morning, find you car fixed, your hotel bill cleared, and my name missing.<br />
<br />
Why? Should my name be missing. Cause I don't want you to feel indebted to me. I don't. I want you to remember that, hey, there was this guy. He was a perfect gentleman. He was almost like an angel.<br />
<br />
And the next time you are on the road at 2am, probably you will not stop like I will, cause not everyone decides to give up his life for another. I would only wish you at least get the stranger some help.<br />
<br />
So what if today has been a long day? So what if I don't edit this post? So what? So what it no one reads this? So what? So what if everyone reads this? So what? So what if I am not there yet?<br />
I have strong conviction. I know what I want. It took me maybe ten years to know what I want, and am still revising those conviction. But the themes is the same, the idea is the same.<br />
<br />
I believe anyone can do anything, provided they choose to do that thing and stick with it. Cause no matter what you do, no matter how bad you are, if you put time in it, you will make a mistake, but you will learn, next time you will do it better. How many years do we have? So many. Now imagine making such mistakes for ten years? Can you persevere? Do you have the patience? It's going to happen.<br />
<br />
I know what I want, am just revising it, but the theme is just the same. You can't break me, I will be on my two feet in a second, and be on my path, and I might just become such an angel. I take the risk of stopping for a stranger in need, if he is going to suffer, let me suffer with him. Misery loves company anyways. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow is another day, aren't we bullet proof. Shooting stars. Am aiming for the stars. What are you doing?Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-557530197546715122012-07-18T10:29:00.001-07:002012-07-18T10:29:22.191-07:00Those Westlands Cops."Bobby, you remember you used to take me for breakfast dates at 6am before I went to work?"<br />
<br />
Funny thing she was facing her friend who sat next to her on the back seat as she said this, instead of looking at me as she said this. I adjusted the rare mirror careful so that i could still control the steering wheel well. When I could see them both well from the rare mirror I went on to answer her.<br />
<br />
"that wasn't even the best part for me, I loved what we did before..."<br />
<br />
"you remember?"<br />
<br />
"how could I forget you and me parked outside that new halfway constructed building...wait a minute, you used to bribe the watchman, didn't you? Didn't you? How could he just let us do that in that compound?"<br />
<br />
She smiled first then started laughing. <br />
<br />
"Bobby, Kwani were you embarrassed about her? Why didn't you take her to the club and you took me?"<br />
<br />
I adjusted the rare mirror again, I actually missed to see a bump when she said that. <br />
<br />
"sorry!"<br />
<br />
The car made noise, all our heads almost hit the ceiling of the car. The four of us. The two girls in the back seat and the guy on the co-drivers seat.<br />
<br />
"We never went to the country club with you?"<br />
<br />
"yeah, I was working, that's why... I want free during the day and it usually was too early to go to the club."<br />
<br />
"no he was embarrassed about you. He doesn't take chics he is shy about to the club."<br />
<br />
"that's not true!"<br />
<br />
I laughed to try to diverge attention from that topic. <br />
<br />
"he bought me this phone..."<br />
<br />
Huh? I didn't buy her a phone. But I didn't object, cause when a girl lies about something knowing you know that she is telling a lie, it's best to play along. I didn't say a thing. No one said a thing. The car became quiet.<br />
<br />
"it's here."<br />
<br />
He pointed to the left. I took the Parking Card from the watchman, drove in and parked. It was time for Nyama Choma! The four of us sat around a single table. We laughed like old times, we talked about how guys usually are friends forever, while women always break up with there friends. Obviously the women complained, stating it wasn't true, that they don't backstab there friends. But come on, guys are usually friends for longer than women. No? Why is that? <br />
<br />
It was five minutes when I got that phone call. <br />
<br />
"where are you? It's late. When are you coming home?"<br />
<br />
"just a few minutes am coming."<br />
<br />
"it's late, you should come home right now."<br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
"hello?"<br />
<br />
"okay, am coming."<br />
<br />
I walked back to the table, I could see the looks on everyones' face. I didn't know how to tell them... Turns out I didn't need to tell them.<br />
<br />
"we have to leave right?" <br />
<br />
"yeah, pole."<br />
<br />
The nyama choma was packed in the shiny metallic wrapping thing it's always packed in. I headed to the washroom. He gave the meat to the ladies to take to the car. I gave them the car keys and asked them to wait for us in the car.<br />
<br />
"you have a slow puncture, we can't leave." she offered.<br />
<br />
I looked at the wheel. It was half empty, I didnt know how to change a wheel. Scratch that, I don't know how to change a wheel up to now. And there was no way I was letting another man know I didn't know how to change a wheel.<br />
<br />
"it's okay, let's just go..."<br />
<br />
"are you sure? You will spoil the rims."<br />
<br />
But I was already in the car. Everyone got in, and they all had fun teasing me on how I don't care about the wheel, spoiling the wheel. I let them, anything but them teasing me about my not knowing how to change a wheel. If they knew I didn't know how to change a wheel they would tease me for life. As in drag my name in mud forever. And mud is dirty. Am clean!<br />
<br />
It felt as if the car was sluggish, I don't know whether it was cause of the wheel or cause I already knew I had a slow puncture. <br />
<br />
Don't you hate it when you are receiving so many phone calls, and your friends can see you phone ringing, but you aren't picking it up. It's usually uncomfortable. But it works, when you keep calling someone they feel like they need to hurry, it instills the guilt, not every hour, every minute. And that is when I decided to do something I haven't done in a long time. I picked up the phone, right hapo Westlands roundabout, yes hiyo karibu na the Mall. <br />
<br />
Immediately I had the phone on my ear, just as I turned to get into the roundabout. You know what happens?<br />
<br />
Guess?<br />
<br />
I see two cops. Yes. With kabutiz and guns. There torches pointing up and down, asking me to stop. It is clear I was on the phone, cause the light from the screen was bright on my face.<br />
<br />
These things just happen, there I was caught. Everyone in the car was quiet. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. I reduce the volume on the radio. I park at the side of the road. <br />
<br />
He stands next to my door. I roll down the window.<br />
<br />
"Driver license?"<br />
<br />
So typical. I think they ask for that first, cause it would be easier to charge someone for not having a drivers license. Why do you handa someone for talking on the phone while his driving and it's easier to handa one who is seated on the drivers seat illegally anyways? (Good thing the new laws allows one to present their drivers license in 24hours, I think?) <br />
<br />
He pointed his flash light on my D.L, I knew it was signed, I had renewed it for two years, so it wasn't expired. If those were clean, the next would be the insurance. But I was in a big car, I was in a new car. So I figured he would not bother. He didn't.<br />
<br />
"Bobby, kwa nini una ongea na phone uki drive?"<br />
<br />
I didnt say anything. <br />
<br />
"C umenunua gari kubwa mapema."<br />
<br />
"hapana hii ni ya mzee"<br />
<br />
And imagine I laughed kidogo. <br />
<br />
"Sasa si unajua we will have to take you to court, unless utatoa something small, naskia nyama choma ikinukaia..."<br />
<br />
Then I laughed again. Not the loud laughter, as in laughing at him. No. That light one to show I wasn't afraid of sh. I have been to court, I know what happens to traffic offenders.<br />
<br />
"ah sasa unanipeleka huko na huko ndo nafanya internship..."<br />
<br />
He pointed the flash light back into the car. Not to my face, at least police men aren't that crude. He pointed at my trouser, dashboard what not.<br />
<br />
"c sasa ndo vizuri, you work there, so unajua the law, c unajua sheria vizuri..."<br />
<br />
Hehehe <br />
<br />
Yes, exactly like that, that how I laughed. Thrice, like I was reading the laughter.<br />
<br />
"unafanya nini huko?"<br />
<br />
"niko law school."<br />
<br />
He looked at me again. <br />
<br />
"enda..."<br />
<br />
So I drove off. <br />
<br />
So everyone in the car was in awe. Ati next time they are getting caught with me. In my mind, I was thinking. Okay, I knew roughly how much a fine I would have to pay if I was taken to court, I knew roughly what magistrate I would stand before, I roughly thought that the cop knew that i knew that it was an offense for him to ask me for a bribe, and I had a whole lot of witnesses in the car, it would be his word against mine. But I knew all these things roughly, and I used that knowledge to handle the situation. But roughly isn't good enough, it was then, but will it be later? I wish I would know exactly how much fine I would pay, what my defense would be (even though traffic are strict liability) I wanted to know for sure what magistrate I would stand before. I wanted to know for sure. I want to know for sure.<br />
<br />
So I dropped everyone home. <br />
<br />
The last girl told me.<br />
<br />
"you know she is the one who removed air out of your tyre so that you'd stay longer. But you are so unpredictable, (insert laugher) you just drove like that!"<br />
<br />
She planted a forced kiss on my cheek. And as I drove home, I thought more about how I need to freshen up my knowledge on the constitution and other laws. Put them into real life situation as i studied them. I didn't once think about the tyre incidence. Only of course as evidence to the fact that women backstab each other, even when they are friends.<br />
<br />
So...open my book. Time to become an awesome lawyer.Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-20546025201418631332012-07-17T05:20:00.001-07:002012-07-17T05:20:37.145-07:00He came to say Hi to me as I posted this.Am in court, a few minutes ago I was at my tailors. Successful men have tailors. He was fixing my sweater. My sweater is grey, and mute in pastel. That's stylish. It is a three piece. I bought it long ago, there were three of them, a navy blue one, a maroon one, and the grey one. The grey one is the one I picked. It's one of those pieces you get that define your wardrobe. Two years down the line, even if you wanted to get one like this, no matter how badly, you just can't. I love it, and that it was why it was at the tailors. <br />
<br />
Half of the lawyers here I know. The guys behind me are making jokes about giving the judge a hundred bob to make him come seat instead of having his break. It's definitely a joke, since 100 bob. Really? I think they are talking to each other loud enough for me to hear. Cause am smiling and they notice. Such civilians. <br />
<br />
One of the lawyers standing in front is a father to one of my childhood friends. We used to play in his mansion when we were kids, no, let's not call it a mansion, let's give credit to where it is due. We used to play in his versed estate. I think he is one of the people who inspired me to go to law school. When I was a kid I used to notice how he had his cars polished. Yes, waxed, and what not. The windows sprayed with that special soap for windows. He had a number of cars but his BMW was only used on special occasions. It used to lie there in the garage sparkling from being well-maintained, the car actually smelled of actual leather inside even though one window was always opened. It was an old one, but it looked new. It looked prestigious, it was the kind people are proud to drive. <br />
<br />
"yes, you have a new BMW..."<br />
<br />
"but I have been driving one before you even realized they are good cars..."<br />
<br />
It was that kind. <br />
<br />
Peugeot. That was the car he used on an everyday basis, Friday he used the BMW. The Peugeot was white, that time Peugeot were something. They still are. But that time, before Prados and SUVs they were quite something. <br />
<br />
He drove it fast, it was as neat. <br />
<br />
Here he is now, those days we used to run with his kids upstairs after checking out the car. Then play video games, watch a movie. Wash the chicken, yes, we used to drown them just for fun. Even then I was merciful, I used to only heat them with a broom, a light broom, trying to train them to obey orders.<br />
<br />
"kukus get into one room..."<br />
<br />
"get into one room"<br />
<br />
We were totally kids. Probably that's what I will do with my kids to. I will expose them to the right things, I will hang out with them in the office, I will let them go to the cockpit in planes, I will go pick the car from Dt. Dobie with them, or CMC, so that they are exposed to the right things. Imagine if all they did was watch those movies with strippers, and war people and what not. Imagine if I didn't go visiting my friend when I was a kid, and loved the way lawyers operate. I wouldn't be here, seated in this court room really mad that the judge hasn't showed up yet. Get back here from your lunch break already!Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-71212003743345032022012-07-16T12:36:00.002-07:002012-07-16T12:36:33.802-07:00Please, make an appointment!Sometimes I think we don't know ourselves as well as those that observe us know us. No, you disagree? You think you know yourself?<br />
<br />
"have you eaten? Bobby, have you eaten?"<br />
<br />
"no... What does this have to do with this?"<br />
<br />
"everything, when you are hungry you are usually such a pessimist"<br />
<br />
It hits me like a stone. But I can't react back, cause thinking about it a fresh I realize, oh my she is right.<br />
<br />
"why are you drinking so much?"<br />
<br />
"am not drinking so much Bobby."<br />
<br />
"okay."<br />
<br />
I look at her, and shake my head.<br />
<br />
"you don't believe me Bob? Kwani why do you think am drinking too much..."<br />
<br />
"I know you, you have make-up on, it's a bit heavier than usual, you have bought new clothes, your skirt is a little shorter than usual, you are very friendly, you always chatting on your phone these days...are you lonely?"<br />
<br />
"no."<br />
<br />
She laughs a little louder than usual. The laughter one does and looks out of the window, as if to evade the conversation. <br />
<br />
I change the conversation.<br />
<br />
"so how is school by the way?"<br />
<br />
"fine."<br />
<br />
Still looking out of the window.<br />
<br />
"how is your boyfriend?"<br />
<br />
"fine."<br />
<br />
"how are your periods?"<br />
<br />
"fine..."<br />
<br />
I laugh as I shake my drink to stir it. The bubbles fizzle.<br />
<br />
"wait, what... What did you last ask?"<br />
<br />
"nothing."<br />
<br />
"Bob come on."<br />
<br />
"...you come on, am trying to talk to you and you so absent minded. Are you still thinking about the lonely thing?"<br />
<br />
She smiles.<br />
<br />
"yes, I hadn't looked at it that way."<br />
<br />
Yes, she hadn't looked at it that way, I think most of the time we act before we think. I know that too well. Wear short dresses, chat more than usual? It's time we asked ourselves why our habits have changed all of a sudden? What are we spending so much time on these days? Sometimes we act before we think, don't we?<br />
<br />
Cause some nights, you just too horny, you spend the whole night chatting to people, texting, it's 10pm, it's 11pm, it's 12am, it's 1am, it's 2am, you aren't talking about anything nasty. But you are only talking to women. And you dont realize what you are doing. Just like when you wake up at 5am in the morning, you find yourself in the kitchen shaking an empty carton of milk, trying to look for a fruit to eat, but your mind is thinking about other things. But when you actually observe your actions you realize. Hey, I want to get laid. Hey, am looking for something to eat without knowing it.<br />
<br />
That's when you stop. <br />
<br />
Life happens, money you waste you can make up for it, but time, time just goes. Stuff has been happening to me, and I lost my way.<br />
<br />
I find myself in bed more often than not, maybe it's the cold. Yes it's the cold, am waking up at 2pm, that means i have less hours of day light, am speninf too much time on television, and I don't like it. If you like to watch television, if that's the plan for relaxation in your life, it's not wasting time. But when it's not, and you are spending so many hours on it like i have been lately, then you wasting time. Wake the f up!<br />
<br />
I consider my life a movie, so I watch less of movies and live more of them. What I want to do less is watch less of television, spend less time chatting compensating for the horniness I have, these online relationships are good, but they aren't the real thing, especially when I start to feel I have more a presence on screen than in real life.<br />
<br />
A good business person will ask you to conduct a financial audit, a great business person will tell you, conduct a time audit! A smart person would advice you to look at your day, and how you allocate your time. Conduct a personal time audit, if you want to live the life you want to.<br />
<br />
I want to go back to traveling with my girl, seeing the country, eating out, I love eating out, nice places. I love sports, lawn tennis and squash, horses and... But I haven't been doing that, cause usually am so focused on my horniness, or the weather is too cold, it's inconveniencing to go to the club for a game. And a sweaty game at the squash is what makes me happy. <br />
<br />
So it's time I sat down, it's time I decided, becoming a great lawyer is important to me, that means I have to put a certain number of hours to be good at it. I must put that in my schedule. I must look at Monday as an opportunity & not as the worst thing that can happen to my balls. <br />
Sports to me is more entertaining than television, but doing sports has been very inconveniencing, so maybe tomorrow what I need to do is go rent out a locker for my gym clothes so that when am in town & I have some free time, I don't have to drive home with the intention of picking some sports clothes and a racket but end up switching on the televison in my room & lying in bed. 3 hours down the line, I hit my head. <br />
<br />
"shoot, I was supposed to go for a game. Argh, I will go tomorrow."<br />
<br />
And tomorrow never comes.<br />
<br />
It's time I slept early, cause its better to work during the day, if you know that by eleven no matter what you are going to have to sleep, you will spend your day better, prioritize. When you have no defined sleeping time it simply means, you will always procrastinate.<br />
<br />
"what are you telling me..."<br />
<br />
"my day ends whenever I want it to, four, five, six in the morning."<br />
<br />
And that's when you realize, you spent the whole day in the house, you didn't go say whatssup to your friends, u stood them up, new eating out places have been opened in town with glass swiming pools that you haven't sampled, your friends have started getting new friends cause you never get out of the house, you aren't having fun cause believe you me, holidays are planned spontaneously even, you find the guys at court have missed you.<br />
<br />
"where did you go?" <br />
<br />
"am around."<br />
<br />
"you used to come seat here and write in court, ama you gave up?"<br />
<br />
No, I haven't, I got out of my track a little. It's allowed, I want my life back. I want my f life back! And it starts tonight, sorry girls, am not chatting with you to dawn tonight. It's time I became a little unavailable, I hear that makes one charming. And raises your 'value', hehe want to see me, make an appointment!Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-70092431669394340662012-07-14T14:00:00.001-07:002012-07-14T14:00:37.596-07:00Sorry for what I did on phone.Some lady psychologist in a very fat complex textbook says that i can trick myself happy. If I force a smile, somehow I will be happy. That happiness is a choice, fueled by good attitude. Do you believe her?<br />
<br />
Isn't it easier to wake up and the first thing is bitch about the fact that I am awake to early? Complain Monday is here. That you've been waiting for Friday since Friday night or Monday morning? It's cool. Its cool to be depressed ain't it?<br />
<br />
Ask rock stars. Ask Drake, yeah ask Drake. Beautiful album, he is the kinda guy who will make you feel like the worst thing is to get money and fame, but still make it cool. It's the most effective way of showing off, complaining about the finer things in life. No one doubts you when you do that. <br />
<br />
But till when will I listen to these sad rock songs. Come on? Till when. After the album you feel like you want to go over the balcony. <br />
<br />
I admit it, music changes my attitude, but not as well as hunger does. A hungry man is an angry man. But today I wasnt hungry, I was generally bitchy, and when my girl called.<br />
<br />
Okay, maybe when I called my girl I was like...<br />
<br />
"babe, what's my iCloud password?"<br />
<br />
"you didn't give it to me..."<br />
<br />
"come on, I did!"<br />
<br />
That's me getting angry.<br />
<br />
"what's my Apple store password?"<br />
<br />
"...I told you you didn't give it to me, I think it's my name maybe"<br />
<br />
And I didn't say bye. I just hang up. Yes, her name is usually my password, but don't bother, you don't know the name I use. But that is testimony I love you baby. You being my password is testimony I love you. You know my other passwords babe. That's all am saying. These other people reading don't know what I mean, but you do. Your name is contained in my password, you know what names I use for my other passwords...<br />
<br />
But I hang up on you babe, I was annoying, cause I have been having bad attitude lately. I don't know why I think it's cool. To find joy in sadness, sad songs, sad stories, depressing stuff. But I know how it comes about babe.<br />
<br />
It comes about when I wake up, I wake up late, I start to hurry, and hurrying rhymes with worrying, I don't find my shoes polished, I find my reserved parking taken, I find out I forgot my wallet in the car and am already at the till, when I have put a shitty song as a ring tone, those stuff and more, negative thoughts and stuff, that's what makes me bitchy, such things inspire bad attitude, makes me perfectly ready to explode and complain. NkT!<br />
<br />
I don't want to be that guy, let rock stars be, cash in on bad attitude people, sad depressed people. At least it's them who are most likely to download such songs, too bored to live life, all the time in the world to look for depressing songs. <br />
<br />
But I don't think sad is bad, sad is good, cause its natural, Adele is awesome, I love her songs. But what I think I need to do is not listen to her the whole day. So that after all I am left calling you and complaining about love and what not. Writing sad stuff.<br />
<br />
I want to look at the world with happy eyes, good attitude, cause I fire people who have bad attitude, we leave sad people eventually, we assume neutral people, we flock around people with good attitude. <br />
<br />
So baby, no more sad, no more weak energy, I have gone through problems, sorry, no negative attitude, let's try this again...<br />
<br />
So baby, no more sad, no more weak energy, I have gone through challenges over the past couple of days, but I got to rise up from the ashes like Bobby does. No losing, always winning, cause it all starts with the mind.<br />
<br />
No...am such a bad boyfriend, I didn't try to make my girl laugh today, I just bitched about my password. None of that, it's all; I messed up, and this is an excuse to do something so big for my girl as a sorry. <br />
<br />
Why? Cause it's good to have good attitude, it's good to have energy, it's good to be smiling more than sad, it's good to surround yourself with music and things that give you psych. Cause you don't want your girlfriend to stop calling cause she knows, hey todays he is in a bad mood, but he always is. <br />
<br />
I've messed up babe, I've messed up lots, and am coming off the mess in style like I have always done. Maybe it's bipolar, but who cares, good attitude inspires creativity, I will find my way around it, good attitude doesn't believe in impossible, a way around bipolar is possible. If it doesn't want to die, I will kill it with the fire of energy in me.<br />
<br />
I don't really need to work for anything baby, but I do, cause I realize when you aim at something, your attitude is better, am happier, and when am happier I can love you better, don't you like the way I do your...and turn and do your...<br />
<br />
Can you feel it? Can you feel good turning to better? Can you feel it? We were to travel the world, are you getting appropriate outfits? to match the white beach? white sand? blue waters? the wall in my apartment we promised we will paint together, I plan on splashing some of the paint on you by the way, we must get overalls, a sexy one for you. Not kiss the cook right now, kiss the painter. After it we can call the actual professional painter to clean the mess we will make.<br />
<br />
You fell in love with an energetic guy, a guy that believed he owned the world and no one could convince him that the world doesn't kiss it. You didnt fall in love with a guy that was a neutral spectator of the game of life, you didnt fall in love with a guy who was a critic of the game of life, you feel in love with the player of life. And I have always won, I will always win. <br />
<br />
I know sometimes I will be as sad as f, maybe it's beyond my control, maybe sometimes I will be so depressed, but I know where I will run to when a, depressed. Seat on the sofa, let me lie on your lap, and hug you round your waist to your hips, and your bosom firm on my head. That's where I hide when am sad, but am not going to be sad for long, I must get sad for a second, and shoot out go take over the world for you baby.<br />
<br />
Go take over the world for you baby.Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-84983600565103760762012-07-13T16:28:00.000-07:002012-07-13T16:28:07.520-07:00Good Idea (read at a club)So we were a full car, three women, two men. A red Mercedes Benz, my friends, I don't drive a red one. I was seated at the co-drivers seat. He was driving, the women were behind. That should tell you something, we were boys.<br />
<br />
Hot girls. Hot club, the kind you wonder, okay are these guys freezing me cause am underage, or is it that they don't think I am stinking rich? Or are they freezing me cause am not a foreigner, or am not white? Or the girls aren't beautiful enough? Not dressed right? That kind of club.<br />
<br />
The women got in, they were walking ahead, they were with us. But it was the friends with benefits thing. My pal got in first, I got frozen. Okay. What the f?<br />
<br />
"I.d?"<br />
<br />
"really, my women just walked in..."<br />
<br />
Then I started thinking, maybe I should have had my hands around two women, and acted loud, drunk and rowdy... But it was too late. The women were in, my pal had to take a step back and ask the bouncer wassup. It should tell you about the kind of girls we had with us.<br />
<br />
"25 years sorry."<br />
<br />
In my mind I was like...but those chics are eighteen. I think. Come on, am way older than her. But I don't negotiate with bouncers, idiot ones. When they act shitty like that they stop being my friends and become the help. And I don't talk to the help.<br />
<br />
So...I get my wallet out, I look at him, remove a 200 note half way, I look at his face, I remove another 200 hundred note. I can remove, ten twenty, whatever but am getting in man. And I always do. That's the good thing about mula. It is like water, it takes the shape of anything you put it in. I was in, finally! Dented Wallet, but it's alright.<br />
<br />
"wow you found a seat."<br />
<br />
"oh, and you already ordered..."<br />
<br />
That should tell you something about the women we were with. I watched the hand bags, and the drinks, cause am that guy. The guy who watches that sh as the others run off to the dance floor.<br />
<br />
But I don't mind it, I don't mind it at all dammit, I don't think I have ever quite approached any girl directly. The women I've had, I don't know the sh that happened. But that's me? How is it with you? Aren't we old enough, it's easier to change the world around us to fit us than to change ourselves to fit the world. Yeah...<br />
<br />
Let the music play, let me watch. I wonder why I bother showing up here. Clubs just inspire sex, the music makes you horny, the sudden increase above normal of women in scanty dresses makes me mad; you want them all but it's gross to have them all, clubs constantly remind me I can't dance, I get bored, and worse still I have to pretend am having a good time. I think it's better sweet cause...<br />
<br />
"we toast..."<br />
<br />
"yes we toast..."<br />
<br />
"Yey, a toast..."<br />
<br />
And at that moment when I watch my girl friends so excited and happy they are literally running around the club, screaming, I feel it's okay. And the guys are doing that thing they do when chics bend over in clubs. It's all good, I don't do it, cause I dance better in bed than in clubs. But that's me, bitter sweet at the club.<br />
<br />
"what time are we leaving..."<br />
<br />
That will always be me who asks.<br />
<br />
"Kwani Bob,you not having fun..."<br />
<br />
That will always be my friend asking.<br />
<br />
"ai, am having fun, a toasssssssst to...!"<br />
<br />
And I put my glass up in the air, sing along to the tune of the song playing, do a little man-yell, and they forget I wanted to leave after that routine.<br />
<br />
But my drink has more Alvaro than alcohol. It's so diluted I can't get high, cause I don't like hang overs, and I love my liver, kidney, I don't know which one of the two I love more. Hapana, don't hate, my style, it's a free country. Kama wewe unapenda sawa... Aish, who was that complaining. Tutakufukuza hapa astoldbybobby. Usituletee<br />
<br />
"boss, ebu... Excuse me..."<br />
<br />
That's me moving my lips, the music is too loud, I know the waiter can't hear me, but he is the one who is going to be the one who leans in to hear what am saying, cause when you lean in, you aren't a man.<br />
<br />
If you bend your back in a club, you aren't a man. You look as if you are worried about the bill, even if you are not, even thought the three girls you brought have found other three girls who are tanks. But it's alright. Let's party, let's not lean in to talk to the waiter, let the waiter lean in. He leaned in. <br />
<br />
"can i please have ice cubes..."<br />
<br />
"We don't serve ice cubes with soft drinks..."<br />
<br />
"then you have poor services."<br />
<br />
Yes, am also that guy who tells them they have poor services if they hurt my feelings. And the girl seated next to me is usually the girl who will tell the waiter to bring her another Black Ice and share her ice cubes with me. It all works out anyways. I get my ice cubes, o's many I want to throw some of them at the waiter. But, I don't want to cover the bouncers full house rent in one night.<br />
<br />
Everyone gets known for something, know this club cause they put both the glasses and the drinks in the fridge, everything is chilled. You know this club for the music,you know that girl for her big a, you know this guy for his long hair, you know that bouncer for his over-friendly nature, we know this lawyer for picking high profile cases, and you will know me for only defending good people, even if it earns me nothing, I will put my own money into defending people who are right, not evil. Good people, and it will be an emotional thing, in that, I either win or beat myself up forever. I hope good people will pay, but if they don't. It's all good, at the end of the day, at my grave, I want to be remembered as the lawyer that only defended people who were good not evil. No, I don't care what other lawyers say about that.<br />
<br />
You can take that to the bank, but even if I don't. I will take it to heaven, good deeds over there are a plus, right?<br />
<br />
Those are the things I sometimes think about when am trying not to get angry at not knowing some hot girl on the dance floor.<br />
<br />
"finish your drink we leave..."<br />
<br />
Yes, that's me whose always told that.<br />
<br />
"...can I?"<br />
<br />
That's one of the girls I usually am with who gulps my half full drink up in a second. They pick there hand bags, there phones, and we head to the parking lot. Most of them can't even walk straight. But we were two men, three women, it wasn't a big deal.<br />
<br />
"you drive, am too high..."<br />
<br />
And I take the steering wheel. The sitting arrangement is changed. Am on the drivers seat. There is the girl who likes me more than she likes my friend seated at the co-drivers seat. And the other two ladies sandwich my friend on the back seat.<br />
<br />
"we get some kuku, and chips at Kenchic?"<br />
<br />
That's always from hapo nyuma. <br />
<br />
So we drop by Kenchic, we make noise there. We hold each other inappropriately. And leave...with our chicken.<br />
<br />
"aren't you guys dropping me home."<br />
<br />
That's usually the chic at the back, who is usually not as high as the other one. Was waiting for the kuku perhaps? Am not judging...<br />
<br />
"you want to go home, I thought we were to have a party? The three of us..."<br />
<br />
And he is upset, but not quite, he can't show it, cause he doesn't want to upset the other girl. I can tell from his voice though. So I turn appropriately to his apartment. I drop him with his girl, I tell him I will be back with his car.<br />
<br />
"cool..."<br />
<br />
They leave. The car becomes quiet. No more laughter, just talk, hey, the road... Turn right... Turn left... You missed the turn... You didnt ask me to turn early enough... Ahhh f you... No we will wait until someone opens the gate for you... Had fun...bye. Bye. She is nice. No. Yes.<br />
<br />
And then we are just the two of us in the car. I would want h but not while driving someone else's car. <br />
<br />
"why are we stopping here?"<br />
<br />
"am getting a cab."<br />
<br />
She wants to scream, shout, complain, why shouldn't I drop her home, how do I just leave her like that and I dropped the other girl home.<br />
<br />
"...you know where that place is."<br />
<br />
"yes"<br />
<br />
"how much..."<br />
<br />
"sawa, twende..."<br />
<br />
So the cab guy drives in front, I feel safer when I drive to odd places at night with a cab guy ahead. That way if anyone car-jacked me I would have help. Plus I don't trust these women. My paranoia is on another level. <br />
<br />
So we reach the chics apartment. She lives with the cousin. We start touching in the car. The cab guy is waiting to drive with me back to town. But am about to score, and I didn't know I would, I didn't dance, but stuff happens, nights take unexpected turn. <br />
<br />
Safety, sex, safety, sex...car jackers, sex, car jackers, sex. I weigh my options, I finally tell the cab guy to leave, I will find my way. I pack the car out of the gate. I get into the house cause the cousin is not in. How convenient. How very convenient. We do the did. <br />
<br />
She sees me off. She is worried I will not get my way home. I drive in the cold alone, I missed a turn, the car got into a ditch as I was reversing out of someone's gate. (I took a wrong turn) You know, the drainage trenches. You don't see them when you reverse. I accelerate for a while. I realize that the wheel is just floating in the air. <br />
<br />
A few matatus stop by, some young guys form a crowd around me, heavily populated area. <br />
<br />
"hapa hakuna breakdown..."<br />
<br />
"fanya harambee tutoe gari..."<br />
<br />
I make no promises. They form a large crowd in front of the car. They lift it, I reverse, the car jerks and almost hits the kiosks behind. But I break in time. <br />
<br />
I roll down the window kidogo.<br />
<br />
"sasa Mimi sina kitu..."<br />
<br />
"come on, c you can c mimi ni kijana Kama nyinyi..."<br />
<br />
Yes I could go into my wallet remove for them something. But how many we're they, like fifty. If they knew I had money, trust me, they would have helped themselves to everything even the car. Besides, they would have a problem sharing. 20plus people. Guess what would happen if some got some disnt. Fight, fight who? Me. Not fight really, you know what they would do... Young hooligans. At such a neighborhood.<br />
<br />
"kwanza I've stolen this car from home..."<br />
<br />
"my mum akiamka aikose, by the way ntakuja kujificha tu hapa kwenu..."<br />
<br />
So they laughed. But there were still some nyuma asking.<br />
<br />
"leta kitu ama uende hasara ya windscreen moja..."<br />
<br />
And I told them, if they broke my windscreen, they would be sure I wouldn't move from where I was. Home would be worse hell.<br />
<br />
But it was all a lie. <br />
<br />
"next time ubebe pesa,"<br />
<br />
"ehh utembeee na pesa."<br />
<br />
And I rolled down the window waving saying.<br />
<br />
"by the way...thats a good idea." yeah, right!Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002612981350099034.post-91933570783024966932012-07-10T11:56:00.003-07:002012-07-10T11:56:09.150-07:00BadBoysAren'tTheBestThingThatHasHappenedToEarthThe first time we were to meet I stood her up. But that time I didn't understand how being stood up felt, when you experience a certain kind of pain you are more companionate to people who have experienced it.<br />
<br />
The second time we met I told her we were going to the club. She figured she should wear sports clothes. She did. It was a little awkward, people stared at us. Am sure asking who is this? What is she wearing? <br />
<br />
But they gave her a free pass, cause she is beautiful. Very beautiful, brown skin, dark hair, well sized, well mannered, calm and confident. She pulled it off.<br />
<br />
Obviously I wasn't going to get some after that date, it wasn't perfect. She was perfect though.<br />
<br />
We met a couple of other times.<br />
<br />
We had a picnic once. It was beautiful, I parked chicken, no, it was fish, it was fish most of the times, roasted potatoes, soda cans, and ice cubes in their thermos. We watched the lake with car doors open, stepping on the soft green grass with socks. Music scenting the afternoon air.<br />
<br />
We kissed, her lips were inexperienced, like she was a good girl, not used to kissing a lot. Inexperience is sometimes good.<br />
<br />
"you know how many times I cried?"<br />
<br />
"I had a miscarriage..."<br />
<br />
"and my ex-boyfriend wasn't there for me..."<br />
<br />
"I felt so sick..."<br />
<br />
"and instead of comforting me, he treated me like trash..."<br />
<br />
I didn't know how I had turned into this guy who women talk to about other men with. Am usually that guy who other women talk to other women and other men about. But roles had changed.<br />
<br />
But when she looks out of the window as she talks. She looks sad, she is beautiful, she is beautifully sad, don't you just feel like you want to care for her. Protect her. She brought out a little man in me at that moment. I didn't change the topic, I let her let it all out.<br />
<br />
I didn't try to make her ex look bad, and I look good. It would have been a very productive move to get into her jeans. But sometimes, you turn human, don't you, put your interests aside and listen. <br />
<br />
"_________"<br />
<br />
That's me drawing a blank. That's me not knowing what to tell her. That's me watching her hurt and I can't do jerk about it. That's me parking at the side of the road to listen. <br />
<br />
When she was done, we met again. It was another new day, with fresh smoles like the day before didn't happen. She still didn't give it up though.<br />
<br />
But then there are these chics who aren't boring, sometimes you want one thing, given. But in addition to wanting that one thing, you find other things. Things like you like hanging out with her. Tara, tara... But chics don't understand that usually. They think men are one minded, kama anataka hiyo, ni hiyo tu anataka. <br />
<br />
So I stuck around, I picked her from her place, and the jam those sides where she lives is not decent jam. It's survival for the fittest. But she always held my arm when those matatu guys kept hooting and I hide in the tinted glass. Her hand calmed me down usually.<br />
<br />
You know the way a real lady touches you arm & at that moment you remember, gentlemen are inside the car, hooligans are outside. Yap. <br />
<br />
Her birthday was coming. <br />
<br />
That's when I really planned for it. I got champagne. I got fancy glasses. I got candles. I stole some red roses from a place I will not reveal. Do you know what I did with the roses? I deflowered them, okay, let's say de-petalled them. Piece after piece of the red scented petals all over my bedroom. I got her a pair of shoes, a teddy bear for her to hug when am not around. And stuffed it under the bed in a fancy gift box.<br />
<br />
She melted. As in she melted, I know all this romantic whatever is cliche. But that's kinda the point don't you think? Men who like a woman do that routine, don't they. <br />
<br />
It was special to her, cause I think it meant that she now belonged to the class of women who have had rose petals spread all over the room, candles lit, curtains clothes, champagne poured in actual champagne flutes so that the sparkly is neat, the bubbly well seen and the flutes act as speakers for the music the bubbly golden liquid make. She was that kind of girl now. The one who has had that done for her. If I was a girl, I would boast.<br />
<br />
"pia wewe have you had the candle, teddy bear routine..."<br />
<br />
"ehh,"<br />
<br />
"yes"<br />
<br />
"yes"<br />
<br />
Imagine if you are a girl and you haven't had that? C you will have to lie.<br />
<br />
She loved it. That day we did it. I wasn't expecting it. But we did it. And I almost fainted just before we did it. As we did it, in my mind I was thinking. Oh my, am actually doing it. Oh my am actually doing it. Oh my am actually doing it. Oh, my am actually...<br />
<br />
And soon after I invited her to a backyard party. That I threw with another girl! Yeah I know, Bobby wtf!<br />
When she was there and I noticed she was the only one who didn't know anyone there but me. I died. But it was too late. I died but it was too late.<br />
<br />
Cause here I was, in the hands of another girl. Pretending nothing had happened between us. <br />
<br />
Anyways... She is married now. She made a friend at the party who told me, she is now married to the guy she used to fight with. The one of the miscarriage. And they are happy. But they had been fighting about me.<br />
<br />
Maybe that's why she unfriended me on Facebook, maybe that's why she has never called. It took me a year to notice. Back then before her birthday she kept on saying.<br />
<br />
"Bobby, I know you only want one thing from me...once you get it you will leave."<br />
<br />
I didn't believe I was that guy then. It wasn't in my mind that I was that guy that time. Imagine if you refuse to think about the things you do you can actually be that guy and not realize it. Yeah, you can lie to yourself! Deceive yourself! Trust me, I know now. Think about stuff sometimes, yourself, ama?<br />
I didn't intend to be that kinda guy, but my circumstances made me that guy, simply meaning. I didn't intend to leave her like that, after i was in her jeans, but I left like that.<br />
<br />
If I was that guy I was before today, not the angel am trying to be today. I would text her, I would text her. I would stare at her new Facebook photo (very cute kid by the way, as in very very very cute kid by the way) and say add as friend. And you know what would happen if I did that. I would break up a family. The guy will blow it out of proportion. <br />
<br />
"is that that Bobby guy? Why does he have your number?"<br />
<br />
I can text her, I can call her, I can send her a message through social media. But I will not, cause she is happy now I figure. But she must be sad about what I did to her. So what I will do is call her friend. And I will explain to her how she was an awesome girl. It's not that she wasn't good enough, it's cause I am screwed up. It's cause sometimes during that time I didn't feel adequate, and I had to surround myself with a crowd of women to feel alright. And she boasted my ego. And I cared for her. And yes I wanted her nini. But I also wanted more.<br />
<br />
"why are you telling me all this?" her friend would ask.<br />
<br />
"cause I want you to go tell her that, so that all the hurt I caused her by leaving like that goes away...she doesn't feel like she was inadequate for me, so that she feels like a jewel."<br />
<br />
And as her friend who I am seated for coffee with sips her coffee. I will add...<br />
<br />
"but don't tell her you met me, cause I don't want to cause her more pain, just make it sound like you knew about how Bobby felt all that time for her, it's just that you never told her."<br />
<br />
That way, I will be in her past, a sweet past. That way the thing I did for her birthday will not be a means to an end which was in her jeans. But a cliche that all awesome girls get that at one time.<br />
<br />
"how is your kid?" she would be seated with her friends around the table who are all mothers I think.<br />
<br />
"he is doing great..."<br />
<br />
"look at that couple over there, the young guy with the flowers..."<br />
<br />
"yeah, so cute."<br />
<br />
"you know once there was this guy called Bobby, he cared for me, it wasn't true love cause true love is with my husband, but he made me feel like I was the best thing that happened to earth those old days"Bobby Mugohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07223627559281457178noreply@blogger.com