The holidays

Ah, Christmas. Not my favorite holiday (April fools, nothing to do with the intelligence of my friends, cough) but I remember as a child how it would symbolize food, drink and presents. It would also mean a trip to the countryside to visit my grandparents. As a child, there was nothing more exciting, I loved road trips, especially since my father had a...uh need for speed. I would sit up for most of the journey, studying his movements as he skillfully drove towards my biggest childhood adventure. I inherited the need though, it's a family thing.

well, as long as its not a cop car :-)

My earliest Christmas memory involves a chicken. Yes, a chicken with a rightfully bad temper because as a child, I loved animals. Frogs, chameleons, dogs and snakes even. I'm still not sure why. Anyway, I liked chicks (still do ha, but uh...different meaning). I liked those fluffy yellow little things and I wanted to play with them. Mother hens were not too pleased with my scheming to get one though. I was chased around the compound by them severally in a way that led me to respectfully keep my distance from those fowl chickens, ha, until my late teenage years. I knew those things were sinister and evil with their flappy wings and their wild bird calls (read cackling). I then decided to hatch one on my own. In my defense, I was very young. I procured an egg and put it under my pillow one night. Imagine my disappointment the next morning when there was no chick there, ha. The egg was under my head the whole night and did not break, this in no way says anything about the weight of my brain, ahem. That Christmas, I learnt that all things take time.

well, timing is everything, haha

I longed for Christmas in the city the more I grew up. I would hear stories about wild parties and fun galore while I was in the village. Oh the jealousy I held in. Then one Christmas, I got my wish. I was in the city but my loving father was not convinced that wild partying was a worthwhile Christmas celebration for his sixteen year old. My months of careful scheming were for nothing, I was foiled. Biscuits!

Soon enough, I was old enough to party if I wished but yet again I was foiled. My astute father did not believe that all those years of watching him drive had magically bestowed upon me impeccable driving skills. Biscuits! It's still a sound argument in my books, ha. Therefore, no partying took place.

ok, ok, yes it went something like that, haha

When I eventually did get to party, I hated it. The clubs were full of people competing to be more inebriated, the bouncers thought they were gatekeepers to untold treasures and even if I got in, finding a seat was an unexpected type of hell. I figured that I had missed the bus and the next two also. Supporting evidence of this came when I tried to party on New Year’s Eve two years ago. I still don't know why every vehicle possible in the city of Nairobi was parked in front of me half an hour to the New Year because I did my new year’s countdown while stuck in traffic; no actually, I was in a parking lot that was charted on Google maps as a main road. Biscuits!! Digestive biscuits in fact. I could not believe it.

After that, I concluded that unless I am at a house party, I will stay home or hang out with friends elsewhere. After all, my take on the holidays is that it is best spent with friends and family. I like to think of that as the best gift of all.

Happy holidays people

pictures from google

Girls and driving

See? See what I did there?? I used two separate words. Now there is a reason for this, really there is because there actually are girls who can drive really well. I rest assured that I can out drive any of them though... *scampers for cover*. In addition, there are some who are the reason for pictures such as the one below.

It so happens that I have had the honor of teaching two talented girls something about driving (probably only how to turn on the car and switch it off but hey). Oddly, they are both Tom boys (Tom men?? Ah English, she makes no sense sometimes) with a propensity towards road rage. You should hear them…uh express distaste, their rants can make the scraggliest men fresh out of hunting adventures in the wild blush like schoolgirls. I would dare say that they have a commanding presence on the road.

 I have also seen the other side of this coin. Oh my have I seen it. I have been driven in a car in such a way that my nervousness had me hovering millimeters above my seat anxious about my safety and my promising future (aspiring watchman). I have been in a car driven by a girl who knew for a fact that she was born an F1 driver (only in her mind) and held my breath for so long that I almost popped the buttons on my shirt.

 ok, this did not happen but i would not have been surprised

As of a month or so ago, I would like to take responsibility and apologize to the world for releasing a particular half baked lunatic on the roads. She mastered the basics in a time that I previously considered impossible for girls and has hence taken on the advanced tactics of insulting other clearly mad drivers with words that would make the foulest of sailors blush and hide below decks. Though I suspect she used the tactics below to pass her test...

I came across another girl who can drive recently. No, not get a car from point a to b, drive fast, drive well and skillfully. I was quite relieved after a certain competition, that she did not kick my behind whether it was by pure luck or coincidence. I still deny that I was seen crossing my fingers and mouthing unheard prayers to stay unbeaten. She beat scores of men by the way, I think they probably consoled themselves with alcoholic beverages. She was one girl I would definitely trust to drive me.

The other girl who I respect greatly garners her own respect. Public transport drivers near where she lives know of her. She drives like a man, not just any man though. She drives with the raw testosterone of a truck driver whose image is conjured by imagining a burly bearded man in a baseball cap whose elbow sticks out of an eighteen wheelers cabin and is able to spit a comet-like gob earthwards without causing even the slightest twitch in the blade of grass in the corner of his mouth.

well, im convinced :-)

The point is, girls can drive. Granted, not all but the few who can are as valued and as rare as honest mechanics. The other side of this coin is that there are men who cannot drive, even to save their lives. I will point no fingers *cough* nyaks *cough*.

All in all, girls are awesome.

Have a good one

This week, I saw this awesome video i have to share, the dancing amuses me immensely, haha

pictures from google

Boobs

Got your attention eh?  Well yes, that is exactly what I will talk about today, boobs. Happy topic eh? I'm imagining a few men getting foolishly wide grins on their faces right about ....

 Now.

Ok then, I have never had boobs and that is not going to change for any of those who might have had hopes. I am a big fan though. If ever there was a reason to thank the primordial ooze from which we evolved for taking that first step that brought us this far, boobs would be it. ( insert hearty claps) Capable of starting world wars and stopping charging wrestlers in their tracks, in a way, boobs run the world.

I'm a month late to start my breast awareness conservation but in my opinion, breasts should be conserved throughout the year, October is simply an important a reminder. Given how I grew up in a culture where, as I write this, I hunch my shoulders and almost blush with childishness every time I write boob, I hoped to share one silly man's take on boobs *hunch* haha.

As a manly man (who likes strawberry shakes and veggies, yes I said it), I found boobs in my teenage years. Before that I have no idea where they were hiding because I knew nothing of them. When I discovered them though, it's like I opened pandora's box. Being a healthy young teen in a school with girls was chaos. They were everywhere, and when they were not visible I had involuntarily taken mental pictures. It took me a while of talking to girls before I was able to convince their boobs to stop staring at my eyes. Ha. It was a hard fight though the war rages on as boobs everywhere compel my eyes with their sinister will.

I was recently talking with the girl who is mad enough to date this blogger and I had a mini breakthrough. We were discussing breast feeding (random eh?). I was somehow enlightened. For some reason, I simply do not make that connection when it comes to boobs. I mostly see slow motion jogging (the glorious bounce), bikinis (hair flipping water scenes) and for some inexplicable reason chests belonging to girls who take body building much too seriously. Apart from entertaining men, boobs are actually functional, I mean, really, who knew.

Some time ago, I read the results of a study that said something about looking at boobs being healthy for men. How ridiculous, I thought, but the supporting evidence was compelling. Apparently, staring at boobs can help men live longer because it boosts blood flow in the body, no really, and that’s good for the heart according to scientists. If you ask me, that was money very well spent. Those guys deserve a peace prize or something. Finally, a legal and healthy reason to look at boobs. I fear though that many girlfriends and wives will fail to see the benefits their men reap from such proven wisdom. I have posted the link thus click here. See for yourselves.

As for my opinion, I'm heavily under the illusion that I'm ridiculously good looking hence my aloof and mostly proud nature. Thus boobs must prove to me that they are worth my time, I have lots of awesomeness crammed into one day so I have to know whether its worth sharing, like the kid at the playground with sandwiches in his lunchbox who will only trade with a kid with cake. #thatshowido 

Have a good one people

pictures from google