Nundies and Braless.

Since you ReAly want to know, i will tell you why i am not wearing any underwear tomollow ;).

So I was driving down the other day and picked up a hitchhiker, isn't that what you do when driving on a deserted road? at least in this part of the world it is. We would have driven on quietly like proper strangers, not disturbing each others peace but no, his chatty drunken mouth wouldn't let him. I didn't mind (much) coz i knew my tyres weren't so good and was sure as hell i would get a puncture. In the event that that happened i would need a pair of masculine arms to handle the jack (and what is that other stuff you need to fix a burst *starts to google*)

Half way and a very heated convo later (you know how it is when one party has imbibed a little too freely ) one thing led to another... it rained, my car got stuck and the possibility of spending the night in the bushes was imminent . The guy being a good samaritan (as they all are, until they are not ) helped to push but later demanded payment for services offered (??)

Now, 'scratch my back and i will scratch yours' is when you push a car that had given you a FREE ride and which is to later get you to your destination aka FARE, its there in the dictionary, look it up... next to Fcuk you. See when i refused to buy chai the pea-brained bushman decided to pay himself with my hard earned mbesha which he thought he'd get access to by stealing my shoulder bag, only my wallet wasn't there. Instead bugger got away with all my newly aquired under garments.

And that is the heartrending tale of how, after throwing out the tattered rags, I now have no knickers until the next time I see a shop (several days I'm afraid).

PS: Be wary of muggers eyeing your underwears this weekend. Deuces.

How I was on holiday.

I hardly ever go on holiday,first because the ATM laughs when I ask for a loan second all the R&R itches. It’s a shame but I am the anxious kind that doesn’t sleep soundly unless it’s on my desk, pen in hand and head on the keyboard (feel free to confuse this with industriousness). I only remember two ‘successful’ vacations where I had fun: Camping in Naivasha because it was a convenient 3 days buzzing with activities; arrive on a Friday afternoon, peach tents and bond with team, work the following day, ditch team and party till dawn with strange campers (wild KQ flight attendants; very good memories of Ms.Martini-ed meeting Mr.Martin). Sunday: Mini-hike, sample great cuisines, shop for souvenirs, visit to the spa, take pictures and sleep all the way back home.

Shortest holiday ever, Mombasa ’08: footloose and fancy free, end of exams, nursing a breaking heart, blotto- 7 days straight! Between one Wednesday and the other I remember three things: Blinding music and blaring lights, drinks and tattoos, hookahs and BEEEEAACHHes + stolen moments. Only one negative thing: someone swapped my ATM card with a bagful of beachwear that I never wear!

Recently it so happened that I had a change of jobs (again), at my age and with a devil-may-care attitude occupation-status change before you can say Jack Robinson. Betwixt clearing from one and reporting for the other, a week of being glued-to-the-couch-purposeless emerged. To many this would be perfect time for a holiday and that’s why I welcomed it arms wide open. This time nothing from the Wild West, just I and Mr. Couch, a stack of movies, face-book, a real-book, PS, quick stop at the salon and lots of dessert (Thanks to all the celebrating Leos). Seriously, without desserts there would be darkness and chaos.

I had doubts I would last the week, but drinks with Steve, the twins’ birthday, Karaoke with Ben, endless phone convos with Tim (about his real vacation in Maui) made it bearable. Body is all rested -almost developing bed sores-mind is fresh, and morale is high.

Tomorrow it’s back to the grind and I am not too sad.