Because you asked… The BHH piece

The “-logue” that comes at the beginning

Time check: 6:00pm

Location: My Office… not in an “I have my own office, with windows and a desk and what not” sort of way.

I’m engaged in some very serious issues. Nuh, kidding, I’m just chatting with the blogger known from time to time as Rev. I can’t remember much of the discussion, but I think the word “boobs” came up once or twice. Was it about porn? No? Oh that’s right, it was the word booze. So it must have been about drinking… No? Ah, yes, it’s coming back to me now. It was about boots. Said something about needing some… then we steer chat towards the topic of the BHH. I complain that 6:30pm is like so far away. I cuss at my computer for lying to me. It’s saying its 6:15pm, but I know better. It’s (as you may have deduced from the first line) 6pm.

Rev tells me the announcement shoulda read 6pm, but somehow the thirty appeared seemingly of its own uh, own-ness!

It suddenly occurs to both parties in this chat session, that I happen to be in the same environs as the Blogger we call Baz and the one we call Heaven. As Rev. suggests that I should hook up with them and go for the BHH with ‘em, my phone rings as it is wont to when someone dials my number.

My ringtone is the song “STRONGER” by Kanye West. For some reason it seems a little slower than the song he sampled; Daft Punk’s, “Harder Better Faster Stronger cooler dumber greater later faker weaker kneecap…”

It’s Baz on the other side. Speak of the devil methinks. SPOOKY! I tell him I am heading to the BHH, but I think there’s more to this convo as well. I think the word “Kiss” appears. No? Keys, then. Yeah, we talk about keys. No, that can’t be right. Why would we discuss keys? Peace? The war in the north? Or some chic by that name… Oh that’s right, it’s Piece!

I am supposed to submit my piece for the paper. The one we call the leading daily. I look at the blinky light thingy that usually winks at me from the modem to suggest that pieces of internet are tickling its insides as they come to my computer. Its not winking. I realise that the winkage can only mean that the internets have decided to wait before venturing forth into the modem. I am without a web. Curses! I tell Baz that I will send it first thing in the morning.

I notice that there’s about 5 minutes left to the BHH. Awesome. What is not awesome is the fact that I have both a jumper and a shirt with long sleeves. I certainly can’t wear both. And the sun has forgotten this is the part where it is supposed to make like electricity and go. I dilly dally for a bit and wait. I publish the piece below this one in a bid to pass time and make the sun go away. I turn off my computer and leave the jumper at work and take my long-sleeved-army green-with a skull thing to the BHH. Read the rest of this entry »


Well, I never…

“I have never” is a nice variation on that awesome game we like to call 5 fingers!

I suck at 5 fingers and have been known to cheat at it, but I rock like Jinja (I’m sorry!) at “I have never”.

I was at this house party thingy over the weekend and we were playing “I have never” when I came to this conclusion… by myself. The way it works, A person says “I have never…” and fills in the blank with some feat they have never pulled off, the rest of the players then have to drink a predetermined amount of alcohol if they have in fact done the deed.

With that background, let’s play, “ I have never…”

I have never… held on to a boda boda cyclist for dear life.

For some reason there are loads of people, male and female who seem to see nothing wrong with this. I suppose when you weigh the pros against the cons it makes perfect sense. But then, as a guy, would you choose to get all so cozy with this dude (face it, this is the one sector of the economy ladies have refused to claim in their emancipation debates) rather than face imminent death… or scratches so bad you can wear them to that party I am constantly planning?

I have never… felt that we as a country are ready for CHOGM.

But the bright and brilliant people at Saatchi and TERP have and have believed in this so much so they went and sent up billboards. We have been over this before. It started with “celebrities” (heh) endorsing the thing… in a move that riled people worse than the nullified election petition (screwed up priorities I suppose). We agreed that we didn’t need to have celebs on the billboards and similarly agreed that a woman that plied her wares on the streets to truck drivers and just about any one that supports the industry (a slut if you will) stood a higher chance of getting the message across.

The second phase has the oh-so-brilliant and wonderful people set up billboards (what’s it with the BILLBOARDS?!) with the message that we have been ready for years. These feature beautiful scenary that is of Ugandan origin and are erected all over the country, usually against the back-drop of say, a slum, a rubbish heap and a local artiste.

I have never… felt comfortable taking phone calls from the confines of the bathroom / atop a toilet seat.

The acoustics do not favour the lie that you are “nowhere” or at “the cinema and it’s the quiet scene just before the big explosion” . Its not right so I generally don’t carry my phone to the loo… not even when I am so dying to take calls and answer the question, “Where are you?” with the words, “ I am just sitting here thinking about you…”

I have never…been hit with Blogger’s Block such as this.

I mean, seriously, I am talking about taking the phone to the loo. What’s next? Putting up images of local artistes looking like moving condoms yellow in nature. I don’t even know how, but the dude on baz’s blog just looks wrong. Imagine if a lady was in a similar outfit, and they were slow dancing…

I have never… been the first blogger to appear at the BHH.

Usually its down to good ol’ fashioned procrastination, but at times I indulge myself in small things. I am typing this out 30 minutes to the occasion, but I am not really worried about keeping time. I need to put this up don’t I?

I have never… been a fan of wearing branded tee-shirts, wait..branded with products from breweries and contraceptive type thingies

If you want me to wear that shite pay me! I am nobody’s billboard!

Are you drunk yet?

The week that’s been…

My job is awesome! I realize that claim could easily earn me some nasty-ass comment for no reason. Could have been worse, I could put up pictures. I am finally going to the field.

I have been, for the longest time, bitching about how everyone else has “fun” and gets to go out to the field and get tanned and heat stroke and what not, but finally…I am going to the field tonight…yes, that’s right, I said tonight.

And here’s the best part, I’m actually hoping from bar social hang-out structure to social hang-out structure. This is more fun than watching the Paris Hilton + Fifty Cent Video. Right, there isn’t any, but you can’t say nothing.

I got the new Kanye album this week and I want to kill myself. I hate to admit it, but its actually quite good. And this has nothing to do with the fact that he called his tribute to Gay Z; BIG BROTHER.

Magoo done asked me whether I’d heard Champion (no, not the Buju version, which coincidentally, I have also heard) and so when the album came in (notice how I am not being very clear about how it came into my possession?! No? whatever!) it was the first track I played off the thing, and SHIT, this thing is off the chain! Or off the hook… screw that, to borrow a phrase, its “off the chain holding the hook!”

Yes, I know, I may be giving this dude way too much credit, but would you rather I was giving it to Reconciliatory Lizard? Who? Oh that’s just some up and coming artiste… it’s a case of better the devil you know than the artiste you don’t.

Been a little busy this week trying to collect articles I had published ages ago. I found a couple, but I couldn’t really be bothered to arrange them chronologically. I know it makes me seem all lazy and what not, but you gotta realize, we live in Africa where the net progresses at speeds much like grass growing…or paint drying… or Straka losing weight. That blog is over here.

Don’t wanna be startin’ sumthin, but…


To whom it may concern…

Dear Person at the Power Company,

I’ve wanted to write you for a while now, but I couldn’t. Its not that words fail me or nothing, words are my friends. It’s not even that, whilst trying to contemplate just how you manage to wake up and **** up the day for the rest of us, my brain shuts down thinking I’m overworking it. Yes Dude at Power Company, your malice is beyond compare, you are our token grinch.

The States have Bush, The Middle East has Osama and we have you. It’s not really a fair deal, but I suppose we don’t always get what we ask for, do we?

I wanted to put up a lolcat type thing with you up a pole with the words, “You had electricity, but I has taken it”, but I can’t find any images on the World Wide Web. I suppose you are adept at covering your tracks.

The other day you asked some guys at Steadman (some company of as much significance as the state of Britney Spears at the VMA’s) to call me and ask me what I thought of your service delivery or lack of it thereof. I have made it no secret dude, I hate your guts. I can’t believe that we have to deal with corrupt officials, diseases, floods, maggots in our fruit and now, you! Its overkill!

This dude asks me to rate your services on a scale of one to ten? Come on man, now you’re just being greedy. TEN?! So anyway, I forgot to tell him that your constant directing of symphonies using the lights in our area is solely responsible for killing my PC. Curiously after I scored you at about 12 out of 100, the person was still cheerful enough to ask what I loved about you.

Uh, your nerve? The fact that you remain steadfast in your resolve to piss me off, year after year and then after you think you have not quite sent the point home, you call me up to ask how I’m doing.

And then… after you were done with that, you had someone else call me, a lady this time. I am not that easily swayed. I did not melt. What did you think? That my answers this time round would be fuelled by testosterone? Nice try…

What I don’t get is how you manage to recruit minions. How the **** indeed! What alarms me is that they seemingly walk to their deaths with glee. Is it possible that we have a pool of suicidal people that want money no matter what? How the heck do you do it? Do you promise them 70 virgins the way terrorist masterminds do?

Do they believe you? I mean come one dude, in this current situation where everyone is advising young people to say NO to old people that are soliciting sex, how the heck do you expect to lure the virgins to you? Promise of a toaster? Tweezers? What do you have up your sinister sleeve?

I called your customer service line the other day and the organism that answered droned on and on about how they were fixing “The Fault” and that’s why I did not have electricity for oh-twenty something hours. THE FAULT? Did you actually tell us about said fault at any one point? Why is this guy under the impression that I know these things?

I know it’s not on your increasingly helpful website. The only thing of relative significance there is the load-shedding schedule for the month. Don’t you feel shy putting it up? I mean, really. How am I going to see it if I have no electricity?

“Hey look, it says here that we are going to be plunged into hours of darkness starting…oh shit! NOW!”


Does it not scare you that one of these days you will slip and we will know who you are? And when we do, does it not frighten you that we shall treat you to our own brand of BLACKOUT?!

Previously in this life…

I have been down with malaria. I also believe I am in massive need of detox. Discuss.

You know how someone can look at you and go like, “You look sick, is it malaria?” and you’re thinking, “huh?!” coz you’re feeling sawa, then within the next couple of hours you develop a proper bout of the damn disease. Yeah? Then you will understand where I’m coming from. The past week has been not unlike a roll of Cactus Toilet Paper– A bonafide pain in the arse!.

As if Discovery Channel
I found out that the female anopheles mosquito (The BITCH!!) is actually a pretty quiet insect. It minds its own. Its spouse on the other hand is all talk and no action. Basically, the mosquito you keep swatting away  owing to its incessant noise is the male and very vegetarian mosquito. That’s right, the wrong bug has been taking the fall. Experts suggest that we listen out for the female anophelese in order to do away with malaria once and for all…

All this socializing.
The last time I went to the clinic, my blood component levels were perfect. I took this to mean that my liver is also okay, which should mean that the booze is doing zilch to me…for now. Realistically, I can’t saunter in to my doctor’s office or room or whatever and tell him I am an excessive drinker and I’m concerned about the state of my liver. I have a rep to protect.

The guy is no priest and so there is no guarantee he will not tell my next of kin as soon as they come in for treatment, “That dude’s ****ed up!

I remember some time I went for a check up, nay, for treatment. I was complaining about chest pains and he runs the routine tests and he tells me it may be because I was working out too much.

I am not trying to sound modest or anything, in fact screw modesty, I’m lanky! For anyone to imply that I have been working out usually raises my paranoia. I go on the defensive and stay there until you make your intentions clear.
The following day the doctor found me helping a friend do some shopping at a supermarket. As I was walking over to say hi, he gives me a “nod of approval” and says, “go easy on the work-out!”
Before I could say anything he walked out. All the while I’m thinking, “Hey! You don’t know me like that!!”

I am trying to cut back on all the drinking, but somehow something keeps coming up that forces me to consume various brews. It was cool back in the day when I did it just to test how HARDCORE I was, but that was a year ago and I hadn’t truly suffered a hangover.
With any luck this week will mark the end of my drinking… well, until that birthday thing I need help planning

I have also been trying to flesh out my portfolio blog, a task that would be made so much easier if I actually had work to put there. The last company I worked for was… well, the creative element involved cutting out an image, pasting it on a white background and then placing a blue box beneath it. This, as you can tell, is the kind of creativity that a child freshly introduced to colors can pull off with ease. Nonetheless, it paid the bills… didn’t win me accolades, and certainly didn’t give me some competitive advantage over a three year old seeking employment in the same field… but it helped me get along just fine. And it carried the requisite migraine and threat of high blood pressure that modern employment provides.

I am equally riled by the whole 50% extra credit that networks are dishing out. Yes, I am used to making late night calls and all, but that’s on MY terms, not those belonging to some lobotomized ape in a telecom company. Its really thrown me off, BIG TIME. I am not longer thoughtful and caring (yes, that’s what I am trying to convey by calling at weird hours)…

I have been relegated to a CHEAPSKATE! And then I seem to be mad-sleepy lately, I fall asleep in the middle of flirty texts; an abomination, I think, that falls close behind to falling asleep during coitus.

I wouldn’t know.