BLACK WIDOW.

“Do not touch me.”

“I won’t if you don’t touch my stuff.”

“You have no idea what you’re in the middle of.”

Looks around. “Shakespeare in the park? Dost mother know you weareth her drapes?”

That’s from a scene in AVENGERS, a 2012 blockbuster and a movie I can’t seem to get enough of. So is the title of this post. But what you’re about to read is in no way related to the movie. Neither is it fiction (I’m not known for being a fictional blogger.) It’s purely me. Let me get this out of the way right now, the content of this post is highly likely to offend some, if not most of you, so I suggest you turn away now, instead of when you get to those offensive parts. And don’t you dare judge me, you filthy cretin. “Let he who is without sin be the first to cast a stone.” (John 8:7). Now run along. Go hide in your gumboots.

Lately, the sun hasn’t been shining in my skies. My job with Inspire Africa came to a halt on March 29^th 2012 (like that’s really a surprise!) and after the grand finale in Kigali on April 1^st, 2012, everyone I worked with there ceased to be an employee of Inspire Africa (what?!). With no job, there was no stable source of income for me; therefore survival was my primary goal and instinct. On April 21^st, 2012, I was evicted from my humble abode (don’t you shake your head feeling sorry for me, you mere mortal!). Yeah, rent issues. Of course a few friends would chip in here and there, and it hasn’t been so bad since. We get by, we keep smiling (HAH!). And I’m forever grateful to those who offered support, especially for the sake of my little boy. You kept him strong and healthy.

Enough of the sentiments. There is an all powerful, Supreme Being somewhere in the universe watching over us (not Thor sporting his hammer and rocking his mother’s drapes!), right? And this Supreme Being in question holds the key to life, right? So it makes me wonder, if this all powerful force that is the holder of the keys to life, why give it to us and watch us go through hell, literally? What’s the point? If I want to kill a roach, I will smash the life out of the filthy thing using the heel of my boot, with as much anger as well as vengeance as Hulk used to smash Loki. No remorse. I wouldn’t drag the life out of the crawler. That would be too gentle a death for such that belong to the lower echelons of life, the vermin that dwells within our environs.

You’re probably wondering, don’t I have family? L O FUCKING L. Ironically, I do. Apparently, there are people on this here planet I’m related to by blood. Loki is a lot luckier than me, being adopted by Thor’s family but it was cool. He was just an ingrate (is that what you call an ungrateful demi god?) who craved more power than he was entitled to. My “family” thinks only negative thoughts of me. They don’t believe anything I do, especially when times are hard like now, is for the sake of my son. To them, I’m just dying to “get rid of him so I can go partying day in, day out.” Yup. That’s my family. So what if I drink? So what if I smoke? So what if every Friday the party starts at FNL then Radio City, Gabs and wherever else? Have I left Nate starving and unsupervised so I can go satisfy my selfish desires? Don’t I go back to this one child and wake up next to him daily? Fuck family, mine is the most unreliable and one that can’t be depended upon. But when things seem to be working in my favour, I’m the go-to person for all of them. Blood-sucking leeches.

So this Supreme Being that holds the keys to life and gives us family, what’s his plan? I’ve been trying hard to hold on to my “faith” in God but it slowly slipped away. Do you know what it feels like being held up so high on such a breakable thread? My thread broke. And I fell. So fucking hard. I don’t believe in hope anymore. I lost hope in hope. If that happened, what Supreme Being do you think I believe in anymore? None. I’m waiting, patiently, for the afterlife (IF IT EXISTS) so I can meet God and ask Him the multitude of questions I have in my mind. I prayed and asked, got no answer. I’m not very patient.

There, you have it. Any questions? Thought so. I now believe in my basic instinct – survival. It’s a jungle out there, and hope hasn’t done it for me this time. It’s basic instinct that has brought me to this part. To this post. I am quite determined to do whatever it takes to make sure my offspring survives too. Hell bent, actually. Just like Stefan, Damon, Bonnie, Jeremy, Caroline and the rest were hell bent on saving Elena from that bloodsucker Klaus (funny, he got the doppelganger after all) I am hell bent on preserving Nate’s life. If it’s shedding blood for him, I gladly will. Not like it will be the first or last time. And don’t you stand there, pitying and patronizing me and feeling all self righteous and tell me about hope and faith…shut up and SIT DOWN. If I needed pity I’d have thrown a pity party. Welcome the new me, the Black Widow.

 

 

 

 

 

GENEXT; WHAT’S THE DEAL YO?

Ths z nt d kinda blog m usually pstng, bt I hv 2 mk myslf clear. Lk 4 ril. Cz I thnk I blng 2 th yng gener8n so I must speak 2 my peers.

 

                                           

 

About two weeks ago, I was reading an article by Anthony Kituuka, a banker by profession. This was in the CEO magazine, February 2012 edition. ( I know, right? What was I doing reading the CEO magazine? Looking for good literature!! Yes, I’m a sucker for that. I need to find Mildred.) Lucky for me (or you), I have it. Ad verbatim. Here goes;

 

” “256,700 youths cannot find employment! That’s about to change…….” Every time I hear this radio advert, I expect the rest of it to revert to some job creation or stimulation programme but it ultimately fizzles into a plea to the next generation to take up responsibility for managing population growth. I am not sure that His Excellency would entirely agree with this approach as it may have economic growth implications and impact Uganda’s progression towards a middle income developed country. The radio blast did however get me thinking about the youth and then the recent graduates and those that aspire to be young professionals in this country. These will invariably take various paths to any successful career or occupation even if the future does not appear as clear as it did in the civil service era of the late 20^th century.

 

I am particularly passionate about the development of a vibrant and resourceful talent pool of young Ugandan professionals and so I will limit the discourse in this article to that arena as opposed to trying to solve the challenge of youth unemployment in this piece. One of the reasons why some of these youths cannot find employment is not a lack of knowledge but the poor ability to communicate in writing or in speech. My simple preposition is that if you cannot communicate well orally, verbally or visually, you have a snowball’s chance in hell of convincing a prospective employer, customer or investor to buy into you and what you are selling or offering.

 

A favourite interview question that I ask on the various interview panels that I sit is “What is the last book you read and what did you learn from it?” I am a firm believer that the ability to communicate effectively comes from having a curious mind and that is constantly satisfied by, wait for it….. READING.  The number one answer to my interview question is usually “The Bible” and the lessons learnt vary. One lesson that is notoriously absent is the proper use of language in terms of spelling, grammar and pronunciation. Understandably some Bibles have Victorian English text punctuated with words like “hath”, “sayeth”  and “thou art” and I do not expect the youth to communicate in that way. However, it is a given that if you show up to corporate company for an interview or you are gunning for that promotion, you should at least be able to articulate yourself and your ideas appropriately.

 

Part of the blame for this dilemma is the advancement in technology. We live in an age of real time information transmission and response. Whereas this has the upside of information flow and quick decision making, it also has the downside of speedy miscommunication and its related repercussions. Do any of the following “words” sound familiar or make sense: LOL, ROTFLMAO, b4, 4u, 2mrw etc? This is the wonderful and innovative short hand language of the Instant Messaging world. Facebook, Twitter, Skype, WhatsApp and all these excellent communication avenues have spawned this lingua that is commonly used by the youth of today. It keeps the messages short and easy to transmit over the telephone networks and cyberspace. My “beef” with this is that it is steadily creeping into the formal communications of young professionals and at that point, the “handshake has gone beyond the elbow”. I have seen it in CVs, statements of purpose, end of internship reports, job applications and I wonder whether this is now the acceptable norm or at the tender age of 36, I am becoming too old fashioned.

 

Another side effect of this ICT revolution on the youth and young professionals is a slimming of their attention spans. The irresistible desire to skip from one thing to the next leaves little time to fully understand and comprehend a task or the cause of an outcome. Why an idea worked and how it can be replicated or enhanced is usually quickly overtaken by the frenetic pursuit of the next nouveau fad or craze.

 

Let me tie this all up into where I wish the young professionals to get to. Uganda is on a growth trajectory to become a middle income nation like Malaysia or South Korea over the next two decades. This growth will primarily be driven by developments in the infrastructure, energy, oil and gas and agriculture arenas.  The era of the “semi literate tycoon” who made his money from arbitrage in an inefficient, uncontrolled and corrupt business environment will be over within the next 10 years or so. I am certain of this because these very tycoons are sending their kids to the best schools, locally and internationally, that money can buy. The USD millionaires of the Uganda’s  future will arise from the ranks of young professionals who understand the global value chain for products and services and are articulate enough to communicate to customers, financiers, investors and governments that they add or create value in that chain. My apologies to the youth but ROTFLMAO will not get us there!

 

A recent newspaper article dubbed Charles Mbiire the “King of Energy” in Uganda. I have met quite a number of young professionals who aspire to be like Charles and my usual challenge to them is this, “Where is Kazakhstan?” The average oil and gas contract in its short form is somewhere between 60 to 80 pages long. Can you stay awake long enough to read, understand and identify its salient features? Beyond finding an idea, are you ready to research and read everything that will allow your business idea to succeed? What are you doing to establish the relevant contacts and partners to push your business idea? Can you make an “Elevator Pitch” as so famously portrayed by Melanie Griffith in the 1988 classic movie “Working Girl?” (For the uninitiated, this is akin to being able to sell your business idea to Sudhir Ruparelia within the time it takes to ride an elevator to the 10^th floor of Crested Towers!)

 

All this comes down to being prepared, well read and communicating correctly. We need to develop and encourage the habit of reading and writing outside the academic environment. Internet access has been declared a fundamental human right. Books are no longer stored in dusty, musky, libraries but on mobile hand held gadgets and devices. I urge the young professionals to read and keep their minds engaged. As a dare, consider this. The National Development Plan for the Republic of Uganda is 441 pages long. It contains the government’s agenda in every productive sector for the next 5 years. In effect, it is a job map. Can you read it and identify opportunities for yourself?

 

John Paul Getty famously said, “The individual who wants to reach the top in business must appreciate the might and force of habit. He must be quick to break those habits that can break him and hasten to adopt those practices that will become the habits that help him achieve the success he desires.” I believe that enhancing a culture of reading, writing and better communication among the young professional is a practice worth adopting as it will prepare us for the complex global business environment that we wish to master in order to be successful as individuals and as a country. This is what the CEO of today is looking for in the GenNext CEO of tomorrow.”

 

There you have it. Now you probably, somewhat understand why I get irritated by people who can not spell for shit. You get to a point where a grown-ass person can’t spell a word as simple as “celebrate” properly. Reason? “English is not my mother tongue.” Then why did you go to school hombre?

 

I have famously unfriended people who post such nonsense on my Facebook page and gone as far as blocking them. Hate me all you want, but I won’t have some ignorant twerp spelling my name as “Mrh” or my baby’s name as “Nat”. Get it right hombre, it’s MARIAH and NATHANIEL or NATE. Comprendre???

 

I’m done. Now let me go find food then look  for Mildred so we can fry these people on her weekly column. You’re about to be Apenyonified.

 

SHE’S TELLING ME…

“She’s telling me things I wanna hear, whispering soft and nibbling on my ear. She’s telling me yeah…how to make her breathe and STOP…”  

First of all, all I want to do is listen to her breathing in my ear…on my neck…her tongue…(focus Mariah, FOCUS!!!) The beat, the voice, sexy as hell!! Whenever I listen to this song, this is what goes through my head…

Come hither...

Chilling at the beach in ST. Tropes with The Bawrse, sipping on 1907 Heidsieck  and puffing on Cubans, rocking Raybans, VVS stones, Gucci bikini, strappy Louboutins in the sand, 300ft white yacht on the pier with his name on it…(you get the drift, right?) Let’s get into the song now, shall we?

St. Tropez baby!!

 

The Mith is a formidable force to deal with in today’s hip hop game. He’s been around with his crew since…the 90′s I suppose. But in She’s Telling Me…*sigh*. It’s exactly what you’d expect an adoring and infatuated fan to say to an artist. Very realistic. And no man wouldn’t want not to hear what she says…I mean, “She’s telling me things I wanna hear…”

Romance...

 

Again, it’s a sexy song. I mean, the notion of breathing down my neck (or any other female for that matter), making her breathing STOP…*moans gently*. In retrospect it makes me play Rihanna’s Cockiness in the back of my mind (yes, I want to do bad, dirty things to you!) After all, what I’m telling him is sin so he says a little prayer before he gets in.AMEN.

DoMiNaTrIx...

 

Yeah baby, turn the music off and get closer, hold me like that. If I played this in an office and had my man in the premises, we’d definitely make babies on the desk. I love how the second verse goes – the idea of a man giving you a sponge bath in itself is a very sexy and romantic gesture. Even if it’s just acting, that’s some really tight shit right there. I wouldn’t pass that opportunity up if it showed up.

 

My oh my…all I can say about this song is SEXY, SEXY, SEXY!!! I THINK UNIQue somehow, somewhere, overdid the hook but it’s something you can overlook once The Mith starts rapping. The delivery is wonderful, seeds of sin are effectively planted in your mind. If you want your walls to cave in and your breathing to stop, you know where to go. Only for the grown and sexy though.

 

The Bawrse...

EARLY NIGHTS, LATE MORNINGS.

It’s Friday, the 13th day of January 2012. Doomsday. So they say. Here I am, in front of my computer, trying to work and get a blog post together, with J.Holiday cooing in my ears. Not bad, innit? I’d promised myself this next blog post would be epic, but being the kind of writer I am, well, here goes nothing.

Boy, am I glad the holiday season is over for everyone! Mine, however, is still ongoing. I’m feeling so loved up lately…I’m in such a happy place. My son (y’all know I live for him!) is a happy little boy, will be in school next month, my family is still as fucked up and dysfunctional as it has always been, my career and relationships (yes, ALL of them) are going well and there’s a special someone in my life (I think it’s safe to assume). So go ahead, jealous me already.

Let’s digress a little. The monologue of self-praise is boring me too. Anyway, social media is such a funny thing. Just a few minutes ago, I was chatting with “Jackie Chandiru” and “she” was asking me for money. Apparently, this Jackie had been involved in an accident in the village and needed me to send her money. I asked if she’d spoken to the manager, she said “he” was at a conference in the US. LoL!! See, the thing is, I know the real Jackie and her manager Julie. Talk about being caught stealing with your hands in the cookie jar!!

Right now I’m pretty pissed off at some annoying human being, who wants to run things in Museveniland like it’s some other place. I’m honestly tired and brain dead. I think Siima’s mind actually works through her meetings, I doubt mine has been working for the past three days. I walked out of a meeting. And death to auto correct. I meant Museveniland, not Blandishment or whatever you cooked up.

I walked back in and I’m out again. This is proving to be an enjoyable exercise. I mean, I can only do so much. I’m actually thinking what to tell you next…ah yes. Read on.

Remember the stalker I told you of in CLOSURE? Yes, that anus. That festering piece of ejaculate. Next blog post is about it. For now, I give you my heart, I give you my soul, I give you my life, baby. I give you my heart, I give you my soul, I give you my TIDDAYS, yeah!!! Merry New Year!!

P.S: Blame my ramblings on Friday the 13th. Totally murdered my mojo.

 

SAMANTHA ‘SAHAI’ ROSE CAMARA

“If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song.”

Yesterday, several classmates, friends and I bid our final farewell to our fallen star, Samantha. The mood was sombre, tears and sniffles every now and then. Her sun rose on August 29th 1988 and set on November 24th 2011. Yeah, she was barely 23yrs old.

We all loved Sam in our own ways, but we did love her. She was awesome, cool, beautiful, fun…all those things. I can’t imagine what a reunion without her would be like…in fact, she was coming home this very month for one. She did come home…but to rest in her final resting place. Damn that car crash that took Samantha from us, but God has His reasons.

Her death got me thinking a lot about life…what have we done so far and what have we accomplished. All Sam left behind were memories…golden memories. Life is so short…it’s a party you join when it’s already started and leave before it’s done. What have I done with my life? Do I leave behind me a legacy of love and a message of hope? That’s what Sam left behind.

I wanna leave my footprints on the sands of time. Know there was something that, and something that I left behind. When I leave this world, I’ll leave no regrets. Leave something to remember, so they won’t forget. I want to say I lived each day until I die. And know that I meant something in somebody’s life. The hearts that I’ve touched will be the proof that I leave. That I made a difference and this world will see.

I just want them to know that I did my all, gave my best. Brought someone to happiness. Leave this world a little better just because I was here…I was here, I lived, I loved. I was here, I did, I’ve done everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.

Samantha did all that. What have you done? What are you leaving behind? Death is our destiny as mortals, so before we cross the threshold to another world, we should try making this one we live in a little better. Don’t you agree? Surely, Samantha will be missed by many, but her memory will forever be kept alive and ablaze. We will keep her alive till we meet again. And if we ever meet again Samantha, I won’t let you go away. I’ll never have to say you’re the one that got away. I love you…always.

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh, uh oh

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

And I’ll be wearing white when I come into Your Kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger,
I’ve never known the loving of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holdin’ my hand
there’s a boy here in town says that he’ll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by

The sharp knife of a short life oh Well,
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best boys and I’ll wear my pearls
what I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts,
Oh no,
I’ll sell em’ for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
and maybe then you’ll hear the words I’ve been singing
funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh (uh, oh)
The ballad of a dove (uh, oh)
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when you’re really gonna need ‘em, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best boys and I’ll wear my pearls

“Your candle’s burnt out long before your legend ever will.”

CLOSURE.

“I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it. I had hoped you’d see my face and that you’d be reminded that for me, it isn’t over. Nothing compares, no worries or cares. Regrets and mistakes, they are memories made. Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste? Never mind I’ll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best for you two. Don’t forget me, I beg. I remember you said, ‘Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.’”

Yesterday was an awkward day. I confronted my past, present and future. And at 3:20am, my son turned two years. I’m not usually one to be bothered by certain things but this was just a little too much to go unnoticed. Let’s start with my confrontation with the past.

1. Meeting him again.

It had been months since I heard from him. Or even spoke to or of him. I’d chosen to completely ignore his existence. Last week, he called, said he would like to see me. We had a few loose ends to tie up. I was busy, my schedule couldn’t allow that to happen asap, until yesterday. It felt weird seeing him…I thought I’d be mad, full of hatred, rage and anger. On the contrary, there was nothing. Just pity. He looked horrible: weather-beaten, run down. And I looked fabulous (duh!!!). Anyway, it was a pity, looking at him.

I thought even the slightest touch would send shivers down my spine. Wrong again. The handshake we shared was basic – no chemistry whatsoever. Even with eye contact. Though his hands were as warm as I remembered them. We talked. About nothing, really. Exchanged pleasantries. But there was this awkwardness always lurking. Then the real talk began.

I had so many questions to ask, but they all faded into oblivion. It wasn’t worth asking anymore. I had my answers right there all along. So there was nothing to talk about again. More pleasantries. And I told him he looked awful. Which is true. So we talked about what we’ve been doing with our lives since we last saw each other. Nothing. No emotions. I had to leave. I had work pending. Said our goodbyes and he drove away. I went back to work. Then he sent text messages.

16:47:00 – Him: So, I showered and shaved.

16:47:17 – Me: Good for you. Maybe you look 20% better.

16:48:49 – Him: It can’t be that bad.

16:49:11 – Me: LoL. You need Jesus, son.

16:50:42 – Him: So do you. Later.

16:51:00 – Me: Found Him already. Among other things. And for what it’s worth, it was awkward seeing you. But relieving.

17:44:51 – Him: It’s all good. Good seeing you too.

And I thought to myself, “Finished with that!”

2. The Stalker.

I once had a stalker, and this guy was psycho. I had him jailed twice. Yeah, it was crazy. Story for another day however. So I was in a taxi on my way to Javas Bombo road. He got in around Nandos, and the only seat available was next to me. I didn’t take note, was busy listening to Big Trill go on about campus chics on TXR. Then he tapped my shoulder. I turned. Met his gaze. He smiled. I froze. Never had I ever willed a car to move faster, and never had I ever wanted to get to my destination sooner!!

I don’t know what he said. His lips moved as I sat there motionless, wondering how in heaven this creature could still be alive. Then I heard someone say City Oil…my redemption had at last arrived. Once the taxi came to a halt, i literally jumped out. Didn’t even remember to pay. Big Trill brought me back to life. The taxi drove away, and I was thankful he didn’t jump out to follow me. If he did, I’d have burned him. We were at a gas station and I had a lighter. Arson baby!!!

Confrontation with my present and future.

Well, we’ve established I was heading to Javas. To meet Colin and Davis, who I found in a heated discussion with Angie. I was still shaken, so I didn’t really pay attention. There was one part of the conversation though that I listened to. It related to a particular part of my life. I kept it to myself, and was silent all evening. Thanks to Javas chocolate fudge cake, my tongue and taste buds were fully occupied.

In the thrilling pleasure that only Javas chocolate cake can give to taste buds of every chocolate lover, I realized I’d let go of a whole load of baggage and negative energy…for the first time in years, I felt free. And there, right in front of me, was my future. It was that simple.

So the party broke and we went home. I went home to my son. He woke up the moment I walked in. And everything else ceased to matter, but him.

We all have baggage we don’t need. Let it go, it’ll make you age faster. Live each day like it’s your last. I, for one, am glad my eyes were opened before it was too late. I know what my next move is now, and I’m not afraid to take it. No more skeletons in my closet to hide from anyone.

“Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.”

LEGENDARY!!!!

Last Friday night, we were dancing at the bar, yeah we took to many shots. Think we kissed but I forgot. Last Friday night, yeah we maxed our credit cards. And got kicked out of the bar so we hit the boulevard. Last Friday night we went streaking in the park, skinny dipping in the dark then had a menage-a-trois. Last Friday night, yeah I think we broke the law, always say we’re gonna stop. But this Friday night, I’ll do it all again.

So, last Friday night was the Legendary party. And it was hella fun. But, the party didn’t stop at that. It went on all weekend for me. And got me into trouble as well. Details later. First listen to this song. I kid. Seriously, listen to 4am by Melanie Fiona. How do you know that a guy likes you? Is it the things he says? The way he looks at you? How he holds your hand in public? How he likes your hair even when it’s obviously ridiculous? The way he makes you laugh? How do you know?

I’m sorry, I’m not really a hopeless romantic, so don’t go thinking I’m about to pour some mushy stuff on here. If I do I might be blocked. Anyway, i think it’s easier for everyone if people in relationships just told their partners how they feel about each other, instead of just working around assumptions. It’s better to know for a fact than to just guess. Coz in the end, you might do something that will piss your spouse/lover/partner off simply because you weren’t sure just how serious things were between you.

It should never be anyone’s duty to speak first. Once you want to define a relationship, go ahead. Speak your mind and don’t bite your tongue. Saves both of you a lot of heartbreak and heartache. That said, let me go speak my mind.

BLONDE BIMBOS AND BRILLIANT BRUNETTES.

It’s common knowledge that pretty girls usually get things done much faster and easier than well…um…not so good looking girls, and are popularly not so smart. And it’s common knowledge again that the “unpretty” girls, for lack of a better word, are usually pretty upstairs. Yeah, they do. Sucks, right? I know! But again, it is common knowledge that God doesn’t give everything. Life’s a bitch like that.

Anyway, here’s the story. I was at an event of sorts fairly recently and this chic walks in with two of her minions (I assume they are her minions coz of the way they were hanging on to her every word and following her everywhere!). Stilettos clinked. Heads turned. Momentary silence. They sat down and we, the intelligent ones went back to business. Like nothing had ever happened.

Now I’m here, typing. I’ve just had a conversation with my colleague and we’ve come to a general consensus; pretty chics take their looks for granted. So they don’t feel the need to better themselves with knowledge, except for a few extra special pretty chics I know (Siima, Hilda, Lynette, Adia, Liz, Q’dee, Ishta, Ugo, myself…gosh, my list is endless!!) and that’s what makes them extra special. Ask the guys who hang with them and know them; I’m positive they’re in agreement. If anyone has watched How I Met Your Mother Ssn 6, you’ve met Robin’s co-anchor Becky. She doesn’t take anything seriously. Coz she’s cute. And blonde.

We all like stuff that looks good, I admit it. But I think people have moved on (at least the ones I know)…we’re past face value now. We need to know what else you’ve got to put on the table besides your pretty face. Imagine this, something horrible happens to your pretty face and the rug is pulled from under your feet…how will you cope? Are you going to wallow in self pity and hope Lady Luck bestows her favor upon your unfortunate soul? Sigh…wake up sweetie, we’re in a competitive world. Every man for himself and God for us all. It’s true honey.

To all the pretty airheads out there who read this post, I got news for you honeys. Try and get a little bit smarter, for your own sakes. It won’t hurt, I promise. Men find such women very irresistible…feel free to ask the ones I’ve named and others you may know. Wikipedia is your friend, my loves. So is Google. Becky’s cute and fun, but I like Robin better. She’s got it. Ask Barney. If I were a boy, I’d want a woman like Robin coz she’s a keeper. Becky’s more like a Barbie doll. Once I’m done with the doll, it’s next address is the trash can. Do you want that? If you do, fine. Go ahead. We who hunger for more knowledge and have the looks as back-up run the world. Google the lyrics before you start getting all defensive and shit on me, little missy. There’s that part where she asks us to help her toast to the college grads. Anyway, the world is a jungle. Get your armor on. And learn how to fight. Carrots and peas.

ANAL SEX: WHAT ABOUT IT?

I’m a human being, and a woman. Above all, I love and respect my body. It therefore baffles me why a man would want to sodomize a woman, or God forbid a fellow man, whether willingly or not. It’s unimaginable.

Recently, as recently as yesterday, I expressed my confusion as to why people who engage in anal sex do so…really, why the anus?? Isn’t it designed to be an exit and not an entry? Well, at least mine serves it’s purpose…exit only. Nothing goes up that hole.

So I went and read on anal sex…it’s pros and cons and the whole shebang. I won’t bore you with the details, because I choose not to. If you’re bothered, Google it. This is my blog. Anyway, I read about anal sex. What it’s like and stuff. Common misconception describes anal sex as practiced almost exclusively by gay men. This misconception is dispelled by researchers, who state that not all gay males engage in anal sex and that anal sex is not uncommon in heterosexual relationships. Types of anal sex can also be performed as part of lesbian sexual practices.

Many people find anal sex pleasurable, and some may reach orgasm—through stimulation of the prostate in men, and clitoral and G-Spot leg stimulation in women. However, many people find it painful as well, sometimes extremely so, which may be psychosomatic in some cases.

As with most forms of sexual interaction, individuals are at risk for contracting sexually transmitted diseases, and therefore safe-sex practices are advised. Anal sex is considered a high-risk sexual practice, and unprotected anal sex is the riskiest of all forms of sexual intercourse, due to the vulnerability of the rectum and sphincter tissues. It is also controversial in some religious traditions, often due to prohibitions against homosexual sex acts and/or to teachings about the procreative purpose of sex. However, as attitudes toward sexuality have changed in recent years, many religious groups, especially in Euroamerican Judaism and Christianity, have become more accepting of non-procreative sex.

That said, I still don’t get the point of anal sex. The pain, the side effects (weaker sphincter muscles, high risks of acquiring STIs, et cetera) and the whole idea gives me goose flesh. EUGH!! It’s just…fucking disgusting. Why, oh why, would a man not be content with just inserting his penis into a vagina? Must you do the same to my anus as well??

I once dated a guy who was crazy about anal sex, and even after discussing it and making my stand clear, the bastard still made a stupid attempt to shove it up my ass. It was over. Instantly. We don’t even talk. That’s just how strongly I feel about anal. You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind to try that shit on me, and I believe several other chics agree with me.

That said, I guess I’ll never understand why people let themselves get fucked through the anus. I’m happy if you can stimulate me enough through my vagina and make me come…I’ll be a contented little kitty. Just stay the fuck out of my ass. Only shit goes down that hole.

TO WEAR OR NOT TO WEAR…?

I’m in the habit of not wearing panties, especially in my jeans, shorts and long dresses. Sometimes even in those tight dresses, that go slightly above the knee. I don’t want to scandalize anyone. So, on one of my rocking jeans days, a friend of mine playfully grabbed my ass and whispered, “Are you wearing any panties?” Of course, the answer was no.

I really don’t like panties, especially in this equatorial weather of ours. Yes, I said it. I don’t. I love to feel comfortable in my clothes, and if going pantyless helps the cause then so be it!! YaY to no panties!! I avoid the discomfort of wearing too many clothes and after a long day, giving off that odor.

What are my reasons? Easy. First, we all know the vagina is a moist area, and yeast and fungi thrive in such environments. Panties are designed to fit rather snugly, so look at that combo. Tight fitting panties, unshaven vagina (YUCK!!!) and tight jeans or leggings in this heat. What are you inviting? Fungal and yeast infections.

Second, comfort. How many times am I going to say this? I love, love, abso-fucking-lutley love my comfort. I keep it shaven (yes I do, so hate on me all you want bitches!!) and I love my snug-fitting jeans, so the only way I keep the temperature down there friendly is simple…NO panties.

Third, pleasure. Just in case Mr. Incredible and I meet up for lunch, coffee or whatever, we don’t have too many things in the way for a quickie.

I have more reasons, but these are the most obvious. I hate unnecessary baggage and if panties are, they have to go. Don’t get it twisted though, being the little seductress and temptress I am, I own quite the collection of lingerie. Bite me baby!!