Posts Tagged ‘Miss Karun’

Ciku Muiruri, or as she’s recently been baptised online, Ciku Aliyeshikwo

So, we finally got a new president.. Uhuru Muigai Kenyatta, son to the first president of this country, Mzee Jomo Kenyatta and an ICC suspect. I must say, I was impressed with the way we handled the whole issue. Most of us were just happy there was no violence this time round while the rest of us are just happy we’re finally going to get free wi-fi. Personally, I am excited about the laptops, because now i finally have a chance to have a side hustle of my own convincing nursery school kids that laptops cause cancer of the balls- if there’s anything of the sort- then selling the laptops for them and receiving my humble commission.

Some sore losers on the other hand were conspicuously seen in South Africa, while some brothers in the lakeside shit on themselves, literally, when they couldn’t take it anymore. I forgive them, Tunajiharia Kuwa Wakenya. Others, kina Karoocy, were busy cleaning graffiti off the State House walls, allegedly, after Kibaki, again allegedly, left ‘Kibaki Was Here’ messages all over State House.

However, I did not intend this to be a political blog.

The one thing that brought just about as much controversy as the Swearing in of the fourth president of Kenya was the this week’s Jicho Pevu. More specifically, Classic 105’s Ciku Muiruri, who hosts the popular radio show, Busted. For those of you who still aren’t aware, Ciku was busted on National TV cuddling with one of the Artur Brothers. And boy did that story boil over; Karma the bitch was on some alien PMS mode.

The following morning, Ciku wrote a detailed explanation, insisting the Artur brother in question merely lifted her up to create more space for people at the party. Right. Kenyans unleashed their madness, with some replying, and I quote, that her affidavit did not fool anyone and that it was Amicus Stupidae since it was pretty obvious she was the Amicus Chips Fungae. One idiot in particular said the Artur brothers ‘walimwaga-ryan kwa stronghold.’ Yeah, Kenyans can be rough.

Whether Ciku was indeed telling the truth that space was being created beneath her for other people to sit, squat or stand, we’ll never know. But the one thing that was clear was that being a celebrity in Kenya is tough. In my honest opinion, the only Celebrity that’s never taken heavy fire from Kenyans, especially on Social Media, is Miss Babes. Yeah, the one of the Mitumba High Heels fame. Think about it. Whom else haven’t we roasted?

To consider a few; Bamzigi for starters.

Despite the guy fighting a drug addiction problem and getting his act together by going for rehab then releasing his first song in about as long as I last got laid, people still had a go at him. I admit, Bachete was an ear sore; and a pretty bad one for that matter. The kind that makes the deaf feel a sense of victory over the rest of us. Perhaps it was because he chose to collabo with Kaytrixx, or as he’s better known on Twitter, Gaytrixx. The point here is, Bamzigi was accused of going full retard because he did not quite live up to expectation.

Then there’s KTN’s Ian Mugoya, who was brought to the limelight following a successful season of Changing Times. Then he decided he was rich and famous enough to get dumped by the daughter of the Keroche Industries CEO… and the roller coaster ride had just begun. He went ahead to goldigging a certain lass from the Coast, only this time he was stupid enough to get exposed on FaceBook. As if ndurama that resulted wasn’t enough, he went for the socialite, Huddah, whom I swear I have nothing against. I swear.

Ok, may be just the fact that the blackboard we had back at Primary School was less flat. Or the fact that her P is so pounded she could be the backup currency of the United Kingdom in case anything happened to the Sterling Pound. And we would never know. Ok, never mind. Back to Mugoya. Now nobody takes him seriously anymore and Shee seems to think he’s ‘a broke ass bitch of a man’. Her words, not mine.

Next, there’s Camp Mulla’s babe, Miss Karun. Despite her obvious talent and beauty, people still said she looks like Danny Welbeck. Honestly, I’m still not sure why my crush had to be compared with a dude. One that plays for Manchester United for that matter. Miss Karun was clearly a victim of a MEME that went viral that resulted in me unfollowing the perpetrators of hate-speech against my girlfriend.

One day i will let her know my new binoculars are in love with her too… and perhaps if she’ll let me, that the colour of the paint in her bedroom doesn’t look very nice from a distance. Nevertheless, how people roasted Miss Karun and never for one minute did the same to Kaz will forever remain a mystery to me… pause… oh wait, I think that may have had something to do with her generosity in providing more fap material than the entire pornhub.

Moving on.

Then there is Caroline Mutoko. We all know her story. Magnificent on the microphone at Kiss 100 and splendid at plagiarism and picking fights with Kenyans on Twitter. Carol picked the wrong day(s) to annoy people and it almost resulted in a world war. She had clearly learnt nothing from Alai, who took to the streets to perfect his screaming skills and eventually got rewarded with one of the funniest trending topics I ever saw, #TheAlaiScream. Why she chose to steal an article that had been posted online only months before, I still don’t know… but I doubt she ever will again. Ninjas spotted the article so fast, a premature ejaculator would probably have come last- absolutely no pun intended- if it were a race against time.

Anyway, the list could go on, I haven’t even mentioned Esther Arunga and Jimmie Gay-it and Larry Midomo or even Shaffie the king of being tossed out by bouncers and i won’t, because now you see my point. Being a celebrity in Kenya is hard because people love drama too damn much.

Oh, what the hell, life wouldn’t be the same without them anyway.

Joining Campus is a dream for most teens who can’t wait to experience ‘life’

By Preston Adie

You probably have seen them around. Purple shirts, shorts or trousers. Male, female, they’re all alike. They speak fast and in a language i somewhat find juvenile and creepy, with a vocabulary mostly limited to words like “forever”,  “OMG” and “I’m in campus”. Fact is unlike the times when shoes used to be black or brown, they brought the age of rainbows on feet and whatnot, a vast array of colours ranging from yellow to orange. Yes, they own wardrobes that would make  Justin Bieber jealous.

Ok ok I know am a being harsh but freshmen are a menace we cannot do without. We all love fresh meat, or so they are referred in a number of campuses.

Every campus right now is crying foul for having its share of idle teenagers just over their eighteenth birthday. Some haven’t learnt how to use their freedom and others are still lunging on the reality that their parents won’t have a close eye on them. Well, I can’t be hard on them because it was that year that I did a lot of experimentation (Read I figured out drugs are way easier to get than sex.) Like the first time i unhooked a bra. For me  it was the first time it felt like I unwrapped a gift while actually staring at it! My mind probably second guessed the color of nipples from purple to pink or even the dark kind I haven’t seen thus far.

There was also the time when I group caressed a girl. I know some of you are asking themselves how the hell I am narrating my escapades like am the only guy who has a story to tell. Well, now am gonna STFU. Truth be told, when I came to campus I feared I would fall in love with a pretty girl with a perfect body who would soon grow stout and I’d be stuck in the relationship like my neighbour Joe  and I prayed I wouldn’t end up like him. But you know what they say, Äsiyeogopa ngómbe yeye ni ngómbe”, ooh that didn’t come out right, did it? But I guess you get what I mean.

Am digressing again, forgive my enthusiasm. Writing about freshers aint an easy task. First after being in campus for 4 years a lot of things become less interesting. Like listening to a girl go on and on about how some Jamaican broke out of Jail and how the guy is the best at singing shit. Or about her friend who got a non-existent iPhone 6 from her boyfriend and she wishes you’d do the same for her.

Ok

She doesn’t put it that way but listening to such people kinda reminds me suicide is always an option. I could have more fun gorging my eyes than listen to some fine looking just-matured woman go on and on about things I pretend to like just so I could get laid. If you think it can’t get worse, believe me, you haven’t been with a girl with a British accent. She’s from Chuka, mind you. You try nodding your head in awe (it has more to do with whatever multi-coloured abomination on her head than whatever she’s actually saying.)

I know what you’re thinking, I have poor taste in women. True, I confess; But what does it matter. When a girl tells you she has a tattoo on her boob and there are more in places you can only imagine, you will sit back patiently, nodding your head to everything she says, waiting for the opportunity to explore America. And hopefully raise your flag. Wink wink. Bow-chica-wow-wow!

But, that is of little consequence to this piece.

Anyway, I decided to go to school to pay my school fees sometime in last week all the while hoping and praying  there won’t be a line stinking of cheap perfumes characterized by numerous pk moments. I picked a Friday for the simple reason that I figured most of these newbies would be in pubs experimenting with ARVs (read popov and KK) while others I supposed would still be going whoa when they see ladies with nothing on but fishnets. Those from Ruiru would probably be selling condoms at a C.U. meeting somewhere on Campus, telling people how pre-marital sex is a sin punishable by the eternal fire of Hell.

Well, good for them; they probably haven’t met Mwangi yet. I give them three weeks to get his number at their fingertips  when they figure out that they can buy everything imaginable from him and that everything he sells is “original”. If they need cheap liquor, rare music, that big china phone, weed, a room or even the number of that hot chick you’ve been checking out, trust Mwangi to get it for you. At first, he won’t say he knows what you’re talking about; only when you’ve pinned him down does he go, “Ai tulia pwana if siinjui si ndaingoongoo.”

So while am standing on the line to pay my school fees and all the while listening to The Scripts New album #3 someone taps me on the shoulder. At first I act like nothing has happened because I understand the joy of coming to campus and doing everything you have ever wanted. For the boys it will be have a threesome, group sex and get in bed with all the cute chicks in campus. Don’t forget going to class drunk on a daily basis (read every Tuesday and Thursday). The ladies on the other hand are probably talking about wearing as much make up as possible, look better than Janet Mbugua and fall in love.

Fail!

Fall in love with who? Who will love you when all the men have their intentions clearly cut out. If you want love here’s my advice, join CU and you’ll be lucky if you don’t end up singing the same songs every Sunday only in different tunes. Some will be lucky to escape with a baby(ies). The ladies will cry themselves to the student counsellor’s office or those defunct peer counsellors who don’t know shit. Then there will come that inevitable rumour that HIV/AIDS prevalence rates have been on a steady increase since all the girls you know joined campus and the condom business will skyrocket. A few tears will be shed and certain realities accepted. But that is campus.

I guess what am saying is, as much as my first instinct is to hate on every fresher out there, I’ve been there and done that. So to all the freshers who read this, forgive me if I step on your fake Supra shoes. Don’t pick a fight with me, I’ve been lifting weights the last four years. And don’t talk loud, if you have to talk in a loud voice go clubbing. Unless you are sure, don’t say am the nicest guy you
have ever met because all I want is some action. Ooh and one more thing, I hate you all unless you can offer valuable information like which campus Miss Karun has or is joining so I transfer there.

Also, I have come to the sudden realization that mentioning that I went to cum-pus last week Friday is irrelevant to this piece. And the person that tapped my shoulder did it by mistake. Miss Karun is now naked in my mind too. Gotta buy another kilo of Vaseline, bye.

Preston is a blogger on http://stalkerdiaries.wordpress.com/ and can be found on Twitter as @Jahnekoh.

The Al Shabaab is is a real menace in Kenya

Hello good people. No, scratch that. I should start by first of all apologizing for my recent inactivity. I really shouldn’t explain myself but I have for some weird reason grown a disturbing attachment to you all, who for the last couple of months have taken your time to read the memoirs of a drunk you hardly know and for that I thank you. Anyway, the last month has been pretty hectic for most of you, I know, myself included and just now am I starting to get back on my feet again. Don’t worry; I didn’t add an extra level of intelligence. That ship sailed a long time ago.

The last month was full of drama and unexplained events and it would be a gross error not to at least mention a few of them. So I decided to review them one by one and give my very fair analysis:

1.       Alex Kinyua

There are more things that got me more surprised than this one; like for instance the fact that America published a guide on how to survive a zombie apocalypse. Yes. If you’ve watched AMC’s The Walking Dead you will understand what a zombie apocalypse might look like, but I really think the guide on how to survive one published by the American Centre for Disease Control would have been intended for people who really needed it; you know, like the actors in the Walking Dead. But hey, we all know at least one daft person in a place of authority. In Kenya we have Mike Sonko. I’d gladly trade him for the 80 MPs in Parliament who didn’t go to school however.

Seriously though, I tried to understand how Alex decided to eat up another man and I came up with the conclusion that Alex and his victim were both gay- no in fact, they were an amateur gay couple. I imagine the scenario where Alex’ lover, God rest his- or her soul, don’t know who the woman was in the relationship- said to Alex, “Baby you can have my heart,” which Alex, being the daft romantic that he was, understood to be “Take a knife and cut out my heart.” Another possible scenario would be where Alex was trying to woo his friend and only he knew, like we all do, that the shortest way to a lover’s heart is through the chest. Using a knife. Nyeri men can attest to that. That or Alex had been reading the best-selling cannibal book, “How to Serve your fellow man”. I hope his victim suited his taste.

2.       The Heist

Shortly after my laptop got fried- Alex Kinyua, no pun intended- I lost all hope and sunk into a very depressed phase, which saw me turn into a serious alcoholic. Ok, I’m just trying to justify the fact that I consumed a bottle of vodka with hot coffee as the chaser at 4 am in the morning with an accomplice you will soon come to know. Anyway, I walk back to my place to find the door wide open and the lights on. Still drunk, I thought the girl of my dreams had finally found out that in one of my fantasies, I find her in bed completely nude on my bed, smoking a cigarette as she waits for me. I may or may not have undressed, I’m not sure, but the instant I walked into that door and she wasn’t there, I lost it.

I think I was even more pissed off because I couldn’t understand what kind of low life steals from another man and leaves his lights on. Electricity is damn expensive in Kenya. Anyway I decided to give the house a visual inspection. Everything was in place, except my gas was gone- so was my new pair of leather shoes and my modem. That’s not all. There was food in the sufuria and undone dishes. Like Clint the Drunk said at the Night of a Thousand Laughs- thank God for the internet- “Don’t worry, be happy”, I simply emptied the food into a clean plate, sat down on the floor and ate. I was famished after all; and my thief was a pretty damn good cook.

I learnt something though. Never use a Solex padlock if you live in the sort of neighborhood where you’ll buy a woman pizza and she’ll take the empty box back home as a trophy or if the phrase “see the doctor” literary means looking at a doctor’s photograph. Also, if in your place fuel is sold in sachets. Another thing, if you get angry, your phone is no match for the floor.

3.       24 season 9

Remember 24, the action packed series that shows a series of events all leading to one major event, usually a terrorist scare of a bomb, that will be stopped by one Jack Bauer all in a span of 24 hours? Yeah, Kenya finally has that. Only in our case, we have no Jack Bauer and the big event does go through. I mean the Al Shabaab people. Their plans are so creatively hatched that their events only happen in a span of ten minutes tops. Usually, a man will leave a bag containing a bomb in a shopping mall, hurl the bomb in a church, or two churches to be specific and most times, drinking dens and bus terminals. The one thing I do give them credit for though, is their unmistakable love of life.

The Al Shabaab has re-invented the art of suicide bombing. Suicide in this case means placing a bomb very close to yourself, then performing a glorious disappearing act just as the bomb is about to go off. Houdini himself would be proud. One might even think they have a blast watching the bomb go off. But hey, what do I know. I actually blame the City Council; what do you expect when you put up signs at bus stops telling people “Alight here”? I bet they will alight all right, terrorists will do better; they will go off. Literary. Also, I think they finally found out that the only virgins left in Kenya are Miss Karun and Jimmie Gait.

The problem with fighting terrorism is that it’s like being a goal keeper; an Arsenal goal keeper more realistically. You can make a hundred saves, but people only remember the 8 shots that got past you. In my opinion, the only way to fight terrorism is by using women. Give them guns and tell them Al Shabaab think they are fat and ugly.

Have a great week people.