Posts Tagged ‘Ozil’

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Mother Nature, you cat fish

First and foremost, happy new year people. I am hoping you had more fun than I did over Christmas… Mine involved lots of house hunting meaning I only went home after securing a new house on 26th, and lots of beer. A lot of beer drunk by my new landlord whom i had to get drunk first in order for him to agree to keep my house on deposit at least until the new year.

Then from there i still had to dig a compost pit for my mom (I feel very manly right now) and still make sure my kid brothers werent giving other kids bruises and scars. Thank God those brats start school today.

But that was that. I hoped the new year would be better. It isn’t. Not until I get back my Ksh 9,000 owed to me by one Mr. Njonjo from last year. Not forgetting i already missed spending new years with her and now I have absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. Never mind the fact that I am broke already and I know I wont gain access to any good money until next week when my new ID card comes out so I can go to the bank for my salary. Shopping for a new house is depressing. The only positive here is that I know I am not the only broke man in Nairobi. In fact, ladies reading this, someone pointed out that if your man isn’t broke in Njaanuary, that nigger has a sponsor too.

Which brings me to the reason I am particularly pissed off agitated angry mad this morning. Not at any one of you or any other human for that matter; I am mad at Mother Nature. In fact I am starting to suspect Mother Nature isnt even a woman in the first place. She is one of Satan’s toenails. That one toe nail Satan cut off and threw in the fire but refused to burn in the eternal flames of hell. Mother Nature, I am starting to think is even more of a bitch than Karma.

Because sincerely, how can she be so damn inconsiderate of other people and their feelings? Even Kanye West at least is considerate of other people’s feelings he just doesn’t give a shit unless they’re Kanye West. What part of Njaanuary doesnt she understand honestly? What part of ‘everybody is broke and in need of divine intervention to get through January’ doesnt she get?

Before you think I am being unfair on Mother Nature, I will explain my plight. Early today morning I boarded a matatu bound for town for work. It was precisely at 7:30 am; I know this because some guy was ranting on the radio about his wife leaving him and how he’s suffering because he doesn’t know how to cook ugali (like seriously, your wife leaves you and you’re more concerned about ugali than your kids? Or your impending dryspell?) Anyway, it was a glorious morning and I was psyched up and full of energy. I will stop making this sound like a high school composition now.

I took a window seat and proceeded to put on earphones so I could listen to a little of Monsters and Men and Lupe Fiasco while checking whether Arsenal have signed Aubameyang yet on BBC’s transfer gossip column. I replied to pending emails and Whatsapp messages. That’s when I looked up and saw the conductor had already started collecting bus fare. Being the good passenger I am, I went ahead to get out a Ksh 1000 note from my pocket and held it in my palm ready for the conductor.

That’s when Mother Nature happened. It had started drizzling. It was just a light drizzle but it was windy. Very windy. Soon the conductor was standing one seat ahead of mine. I cannot tell you how it happened but the wind suddenly burst forth in a fury. There went my Ksh 1000. Gone with the wind. It was on Thika Super Highway so stopping and running back for the money was not an option. And besides, this was public transport. For a second I was in shock not quite believing what had just happened. So was the lady seated next to me.

Then the conductor, who had witnessed the incident, came to ask for his money. Money that i no longer had. Explaining was a lot harder than I expected. But thankfully my expertise in choosing whom to sit next to paid off- I always advice men to sit next to women. The lady, Annet, offered to pay for my fare provided I paid back when we got to town.

So now I have Annet’s phone number, that I will not use because my finances already have a deficit of Ksh 1000, and a ton of guilt because when she hugged me she made me promise I would call her back. Any of you #TeamMafisi fellows interested in Annet let me know so I can give you that assist Ozil style. 

HOW TO GET WET

Posted: October 21, 2013 by ketihapa in Alcohol, Women
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No, this is not the kind of wet i am talking about..

As a fact, God punished women with periods and child birth and getting wet when it’s not even raining; doesn’t matter if they have umbrellas. Of course, our God is a fair God; He had to punish men too. He made us deal with women on their periods. I have stated this before in this blog time and again, I am NOT homophobic; but you understand why God hates gay people. They obviously found a loop hole in His punishments.

Away from religion, there are few things that scare me. Among them are losing the people that I love and care about and being anally raped by any one. Ask the guy that was robbed at dick point, Wateba it was, I think, if you don’t think this fear is valid. I also fear failing. No, scratch that. I hate failing. I fear that I will end up alone- and at this rate that is where I am headed- and I also fear that the Muslims were right all long and that Christianity is bullshit and we’ll all end up in hell as the terrorists have sex with their 70 virgins. Naturally, I also fear death, as well as my dear team, Arsenal, losing. Not to worry though, we have the Wizard of Oz11.

Then, there is the new fear I discovered I have not very long ago. Over the last weekend actually. I fear being pissed on. Especially if the person that’s going to pee on you is female.

I am not insinuating anything. But one thing is clear; I am never talking to any female first year students. With the exception of Daisy that is. Ever. Let me explain my decision.

As everyone who reads this blog knows, I am a drunk. I love beer and everything it stands for. As I once pointed out, beer is possibly the best thing ever invented. Beer allows you to see things as they are. Beer helps you get rid of that brain so everything is clear.

That ugly neighbor of yours, just drink two bottles and suddenly you will see beauty as God intended it to be; in the inside. That girl you’ve wanted to hit on for ages, beer will make that possible; It will give you all the confidence you need to grab a hammer to hit that. Beer will allow you to tell that asshole that’s been making you feel like shit that he’s shit. Yes, beer allows you tell him he’s shit even when you’re not in the toilet. Beer is also the best slimming chemical ever invented; beer makes you lean. On tables and random strangers though.

But that’s beside the point.

So, last weekend I found myself drinking beer for all its above mentioned benefits. And she walked in. She was beautiful. Again, refer to the benefits afore mentioned. She wore a short dress that exposed her long legs and made her cleavage seem like it would divert the attention of any sniper. That includes the sniper from the movie Saving Private Ryan. Yes, she got a number of men slapped by their girlfriends for staring too long at her. I needn’t say the girl I was currently hitting on slapped me too. From the moment she walked into the place, for me it was love at first site. Literally. And no Pepper, that wasn’t a typo.

Anyway, this beautiful lass walks up to the counter and orders a bottle of vodka. Vodka; and she’s on her own, which effectively signals the race to get her number. After all, we’re in Juja. Men here sense fresh female blood the moment it steps out of a jav. Count Dracula would be proud. If you don’t believe me just visit the JKUAT swimming pool. If God suddenly decided to unleash a virus that made all men cum at the very same moment, the JKUAT swimming pool would be a national resource for sperms.

Nonetheless, the girl walks up, aware of the attention she’s receiving and (miraculously) sits at the table next to the one we’re seated in. I assume my natural charms have something to do with it. I mean, it wasn’t my fault I was born very handsome. Wafunya, when I talk about handsome I am not talking about the other kind of handsome that involves Vaseline Petroleum Jelly. Anyhu, either that or the Axe deodorant I’m wearing if the Axe adverts are to be believed. I decide to take advantage of my obvious advantage. I ‘accidentally’ spill what’s left of my drink with a very precise aim that’s aimed at her shoes and I curse out loud, of course after saying sorry. She turns and laughs. My cue.

I turn to her and boldly proclaim her hotness must have heated my bottle to the point I couldn’t hold it any more. Cheesy, I know, even for my standards. She keeps on drinking her vodka. My pals, who’ve been following the proceedings carefully burst out laughing. One of them offers me his not yet opened bottle of Tusker.

Then a waiter places an empty glass on the table, right where my arms are. Suddenly, the girl pours alcohol into my glass and says she’s sorry her hotness made me spill my drink. Yeah, my pals shut up in unison. First time that’s happened in ages. She raises her arm and greets me.

“I’m Audrey.”

“I’m Victor. And I have no idea what’s going on.”

Audrey laughs and says takes a sip off her glass. Then:

“You’re an idiot. If that’s the pickup line you use to get girls you deserve to die a virgin. You’re lame.

“Do you see me in a wheel chair?”

Audrey gives me this priceless WTF look.

“Plus you just poured alcohol into my glass.”

“Yeah, I was sorry for your obvious effort.”

At this point in time I have to mention I can’t really remember anything else because Audrey’s vodka got me pretty drunk. So we’ll just fast forward to 9 am the next day. However, right now I do feel like I have just drank a bottle of varnish… I do expect a lovely finish.

******* 9 a.m. The Next Morning***********

We’re at my pal’s house. On the couch. I refuse to speculate whether we had sex or not. As afore mentioned, I can’t really remember anything. Killi and someone else I can’t really remember are playing FIFA. Killi is losing- as always- and Audrey is texting on her phone. And then I reach for my phone in my right pocket and freeze. My pants are wet. I instantly wake up like Rihanna and Ariana Grande just told me we’re having a threesome. I rush for the loo.

The moment I’ve locked the door I reach for my boxers. They’re dry; which doesn’t make any sense at all. I calmly remove my pants and smell them. I hope it’s beer. As you’ve all guessed by now, it’s not. I slowly wear my pants and walk out of the toilet.

“Audrey, ebu kuja nje kiasi.” I don’t really care for English now. I walk out and Audrey follows.

“Ok,what happened? Why do my pants stink of pee?”

Silence.

“Errrrm, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry boo. *whispering* I peed on myself. I didn’t think it reached to your pants.”

Silence.

“You whaaaaaaaaaattttttt?????????”

“I’m sorry.”

At least, she does look genuinely sorry. I calmly walk into the house and get the cushion. Killi and the other guy I can’t remember are too busy with FIFA to notice. Killi has just equalized. I place the cushion on the rail in the balcony.

“If anybody asks, you accidentally spilled water on the seat.”

Audrey nods.

I tell Killi I’ll see him later on during the day and walk out. Audrey tries to pretend nothing happened. As I walk out, I delete her number from my phone. It officially goes down in history as the first time I got a girl wet and she returned the favour. Only her’s is too literal to be even minutely sexual. You can thus understand why I am never hitting on any girl that’s more than two years younger than me.

LOVE.HATE THING

Posted: September 6, 2013 by ketihapa in Twitter
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Love vs Hate: Take your pick what rules on Twitter

We signed Ozil bishes \o/. Anyway, first of all, I need somebody to explain to me in a manner I can understand why we don’t call corridors in mental institutions psychopaths. While you’re at it, will you also explain to Mckym that girls hate men with vaginas. A relationship can have only one vagina at a time. Also, Lencer needs to act an age that’s bigger than the size of her bra and quit telling everyone how men’s penises always drown in her Basin.

In addition I am still depressed that you assholes chased Dopest from my Twitter Streets. Just when we’d found someone to sweep the trail of pubic hair she leaves behind; I guess we’ll just have to find elsewhere for StanSubru to sweep coz that’s all he seems to be doing nowadays. Sweeping up where men have just finished coming.

However, that isn’t the reason for this blog post. I need someone to invent a time machine to take us into the future so we can see what the world will look like 20 years from now with all this hate on Twitter streets. Or just take us back to the time before Twitter. I’m sorry guys, I don’t want to give advice no one will follow like Canduh, but it had to be said. As someone pointed out, Hitler probably had less hate in his heart. You people will shoot down anyone- and with more accuracy than Van Persie’s shots.

Take for instance the “If United want depth they should sign Huddah” tweet during the recently closed Transfer window.

Where am I going with this you ask? Simple, can everyone please take a fucking chill pill and calm the fuck down!? At least for a day? You can remind Dorcas to calm her tits down too or we’ll get Mbunde to twerk and scare the shit out of her. Because at this rate I foresee Twitter being listed by the government as the leading cause of suicide.

I mean, I’d kill myself if I were a fat person and someone told me my stretch marks prolly have more exercise than me. Or that the only form of exercise you get is when you jog your memory? I’d go on and on about fat people but I don’t want to make them full of themselves. I’m sorry if you still haven’t seen what I just did there.

The next group that you guys love picking on are the ugly and the dark-skinned. If KOT were allowed to draft the constitution I’m 70% sure it’d be illegal to be ugly. You guys would just ship them off to Uganda in exchange for Milk- the shoes I mean. Wait, I think I just described Bata trade smh. My heart goes out to those wonderful creatures of God. Some of my best friends are actually dark-skinned.

At least dark-skinned women don’t reply to your 30 page text with ‘IKR’ or ‘Aaaaawww’ or ‘LOL’ or as someone noted last week, reply to Safaricom’s insufficient balance texts with ‘I have a man’. The only trick is, remember to get yourself drunk in advance so your brain lets you see their inner beauty. At that point they’ll look so hot your zipper will fall for them. There’s also the added benefit in that you’ll not remember when you ‘make sex’ and she calls you Tiger.

Finally, for Heaven’s sake, please don’t keep any grudges with a bigwig or tell everyone you shared a hole or you’ll be dancing to Hole of Fame when the hate boils over and your TL is full of ‘Shots fired’ tweets. Trust me. Ombajo, or Paapa or whatever knows. Or at least he found out the hard way. Now all women know he smokes. And that the stove is all to blame.

They say 666 is an evil number, which means that 25.806975801127880315188420605149 is the actual root of evil. Personally, I think Twitter is the root of evil. Anyhu, I am off to edit my Fantasy Football team. And y’all can bet whom I’m making my Captain for the next game week. Later fools!