The loose plan

Saturday lunchtime found me untidily sprawled across the couch mentally exercising my magical powers of preparing tea from a distance. the exercise failed. got to get up and make some breakfast... right after this episode of tripping the rift.. no, lets make that the next..

shortly, el_diab strolls in and plants his ass on a sofa..

more tripping the rift..

later, man de vu strolled in.. he posed for a few minutes then decided to go get (angels humming) BAVARIA.. so these bavaria dudes, i'm not sure what their story is.. there's yet another 500ml can that has alcohol content of 8.6% (yeah, you heard me, eight point motherfucking six percent..) that shit is really potent. i'll bet my ass that its not really 8.6%, they just wrote that so it could be called beer. two or three of those cans and you're well on your way to literary genius in the complex discipline of gibbering..

more tripping the rift, interrupted by patches of scattered showers.

then el diab acquired the junkie itch. a month ago, our supplier had suddenly grown a conscience and replaced the herb with the wafer that accompanies the blood.. his supply was the shit-fat, juicy and smooth as an african ass glittering with johnsons and johnsons baby lotion.. we sure didn't see that coming, he shall be sorely missed.. where were we? oh yeah, junkie itch..

'dude, i need a joint dude.. dude, where can i get a joint?' of course, following Rastas' law, one is never more than ten minutes away from the nearest purveyor, we had already acquired a supplier. only thing was, his shit was primarily composed of soggy twigs of dubious origin, seeds that looked suspiciously like simsim and paper that didn't burn. once lit, my house billowed smoke like the exhaust one of those rusty bedfords that had 'mzee ni wewe' written on a rear mudguard that stretched the entire length of the back..

we required another dealer. but dealers seemed to be in super-short supply. especially today. el diab hauled his ass out of the digs, mumbled something about knowing someone in kawangware and he'd be right back.. he was back in like three minutes.. i looked at my beer quizzically.. 'dude, you'll never believe who i bumped into in the mathree'.. 'there's this dude who used to bring the shit in westi while i worked there.. and he lives in kawangware! says i give him an hour and he'll have brought the shit! so i gave him a soc and my phone number, which he committed to memory, seeing as he didn't have a cell..'

this wasn't going to end well. i and man de vu decided to jitumbuiza with a rousing game of chess.. he beat me repeatedly..

two hours later, el diab is wearing a path out on my carpet, demonnah has pitiad looking for alcohol and there's no sign of our friend.

'ah, fuck it... i'll be right back'. he left, itching random parts of his upper body..

shortly, he was back.. ten minutes didn't even pass.. must be mr. soggy-twig-simsim-seed-mixture-purporting-to-be-intoxication joints..

my house still smells like a bush fire. that's a reall bummer.

we left the digs and headed to minimum-staggering-distance bar and restaurant. there, we bumped into the cleaner and friends.. imbibed a number of loose beers, attempted to play pool, bumped into the usual suspects, et al.. nothing to blog.. and anyway by then we were all sufficiently papers to render short term memory suspect.. made a brief stop over in tao, shuttled across to baricho road and hauled our tired asses to digs..

next week, the legend of omnipresent will. or not.

i need a shave.

The Poltergeist

These nice people have offered to help

So lately there have been all sorts of creepy goings-on in my digs.. there have been signs but i've been too mr. science to notice them.. come to think about it, it seems its been happening from the day i moved in. then i had a soccer pitch for a living room, with a tv (with the biggest remote i've ever seen) and like two sufurias, a spoon, a plate and a cup. but on any given day, you'd spend a minimum of three hours tracking down the remote control, in a very empty digs.



i never really gave it much thought but happenings in the last few months have had me thinking. on one loose week, my comp sputtered, coughed up some foul looking phlegm, keeled over and died a painful, writhing death. nuts. a day later, my tenj went off and never came on again. a day later my digicam started having uncontrollable orgasms (ps: if you're looking for a digicam, do NOT buy the sony dsc w50.. very bad build and a favourable conduit for spiritual activity). so basically, that week i was rather fucked. then there was the mystery of the noises.



dozing off to bed one evening, i heard this tremendous crash. it was so loud that i got up running for the door. disoriented, unfocussed, without my specs so bordering on blind and stark naked i crouched and stealthily knocked down everything in my way as i did a cursory search of the digs.



nothing.



i walked back to the bed, wore my specs and did a more thorough search of the house. nothing. nothing at al... wait, what the..?



my big-ass, heavy-ass wooden chopping board lay on the floor of the kitchen smack in the centre.. what in the world..? the drawer in which it was kept was shut. strange. ah well, gotta get back to sleep. i picked it up, stuffed it in the drawer, said a few harsh words to the poltergeist and went back to sleep.



next evening, midnight, deep asleep, a hear scrunching noises under my bed. get up, turn on the light, look underneath, see absolutely jack shit, (excepting my stash of experimental bongs in a large paper bag), go back to sleep.



by now i was getting really tired of this shit. so i decided to eliminate possibilities. i ensured i closed and locked all doors, windows, drawers et al. nothing was left in the dish rack, bottles were stored away, not loosely left posing.



then some loose night, i hear wailing in the digs...



you know, that wailing for a lost soul trapped in between worlds, knowing how fucked it is, and knowing the devil is coming to get it.. and it got louder and louder. after all the horror movies i've watched i'm beyond screaming incoherent fits of terror cowered in the corner of my bedroom. i dragged my scientific ass out of the bed, calmly wore my specs and trudged to the living room, where, much to my gaping, wide eyed horror, i realized the godawful racket was quite real. and in this room.


a cold chill doesn't run down your spine. who the fuck said a cold chill runs down your spine? its more like you're naked, and a huge slab of frozen beef is thrown at you from behind.




erm... i think i'll finish this blog in the office..

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At last, a cause i can be fundamental about

an oppressed woman watches her life go down the drain as she ponders her future. i'm above making puns about the cat on her back, or that suspicious stain behind the cat

its always baffled me, this fundamentalist thing. this i-need-to-blow-my-ass-up or blow-some-important-ass-up to-make-a-political-stand-point thing. what could possibly affect a guy so fundamentally that he feels the overwhelming urge to snugly wrap himself up in highly explosive substances and nonchalantly end his life in a crater in the middle of a road?

i've always wondered.

until now.

i too have unearthed a worthy cause. a cause worth throwing unwell eggs, tomatoes and other putrefying vegetables of my choice and vile expletives at police in full riot gear at a healthy distance away from me for.

Be top free! Be top free!

The Topfree Equal Rights Association (TERA) helps women who encounter difficulty going without tops in public places in Canada and the USA, and informs the public on this issue.

We need a top free kenya! we need a top free africa! we need a top free world!!

Join us and free women around the world! unshackle them from these heinous and abominable bonds. free the woman. FREE THE WOMAN!

for more information on how to join the worldwide coalition of individuals supporting this humane and charitable mission to free our oppressed women click here. join the movement and be part of something great.

Click here and here to view liberated women overjoyed to the point of asphyxiation.

Re-education

So this weekend was quite the eye opener. i've come to the sad realisation that i am an intoxicated amoral deviant sexual reprobate person guy. among other things.

Thursday, 7pm, the crib: El diab rocks in with some cans of some strange tall beer. this beer is my new bestest drink (although pilsner is STILL my bestestEST drink). it comes in a 500ml can (how awesome is THAT?!?) AND, has an alcohol content of 7% (is that awesome or what?). so a few loose beers later we decide to look for some nourishment of the solid, non-alcoholic variety. there's this joint that cooks kick-ass dead animals, which is where we sought said nourishment.

three beers and a kg of burned pork later, we decided that there was a distinct shortage of the beautifuler sex at this bar and decided to hit the road. we shot across town to a popular joint in westi and whiled away a beer while listening to the most atrocious renditions of popular songs massacred by a number of highly inebriated individuals. shortly, we noticed the place was getting more and more packed. so another beer was quaffed unceremoniously. and another. and another. this is when i realized that my katiaring skills have drastically deteriorated. my pick up lines have been reduced to any one of the following:

(with a soc in one hand and an arm doing all manner of suggestive motions and a smirk) 'gimmie', '...gimmie', '...GIMMIE!'

(with a soc in one hand and an arm squeezing an arbitrary nether region and a leer) 'on my lap, chop chop'

(with a soc in one hand an my face buried in an arbitrary nether region making motorboat sounds)

we hastily left when we realized it was only a matter of time before we got, uh, helped out..

checked into the digs at five and at 8, i was in the office.

Friday, 7pm, the crib. Bavaria, strip club. bliss.

checked into the digs at six, at 9, i was in the office.

Saturday, 2pm, we found a bavaria sale at a local supermarket. bought KIBAO with the_fiend (my digs now looks like i distribute the shit), we were joined by demonnah with her, uh, escort. her pal, el diab and some ganja.. we dropped the ladies at a local bar, idly wondered where we should go for a few more drinks and the car drove us to strip club.

WTF? Part 1

1. What in the hell did the initials OTC (of the bus station somewhere between eastlands and town fame) stand for? you remember otc, i know you do
   
   
2. If i were a man of steel, i don't think i'd be wearing red underwear on top of my tight blue , uh, tights, or a cape. i don't give a fuck what my dad says, i'm a man of steel dammit.
   
   endorsements, baby. nike, reebok, puma, fundi frank. cash'd be pouring out of my ass like diarrhoea. no one can fight the capitalism juggernaut. not even the man of steel.
   
   
3. Why is it necessary to look at the sticky, slimy substance your nail rakes out of your nose? has it ever been anything but semi-solid mucous with a colour range anywhere between sunflower yellow and humus black-green? or to smell your finger when you scratch your ass? and are those two actions related? ever notice the way dudes suddenly pay attention to a dude with a booger on the finger, ready for launch? prepared to duck out of the way.. 'INCOMING!'
   
   
4. is it an evolutionary trait that the diameter of the nose is exactly that of the index finger? or do you just force your nose to adjust accordingly?
   
   
5. Which insane white guy (it had to be a white guy) timed a running hippo? i can understand ostrich. ostrich elicits some form of morbid fascination. the whole eye/brain thing is just out there.. a seven foot bird is bad enough, but a seven foot bird with brains the size of a walnut? i gotta say, that is just fascinating.
   
   
6. I'll bet my ass that Einstein's children were delinquents. and their children, and THEIR children.. he probably created a whole community of misfits and deviants. and they were probably not very clever too.
   
   
7. Who's bright idea was it to build round huts?
   
   
8. Which species of snake exactly lied to Eve? or do they all have some Eve-olutionary devious great grandpa .. and the only thing Adam figured from eating the forbidden fruit was that he was unclothed?!?! tree of knowledge my ass.
   
   
9. How is coca-cola cheaper than water?
   

Oh crap, i oughta write something responsible on this blog, expounding on some grave socio-political injustice perpetrated by the powers-that-be on the downtrodden shit-out-of-luck proletariat or looking for a new and improved angle on some multi-ethnic quasi-religious argument.

or maybe i should artfully craft a sweeping tale of intrigue, fiery passion, love lost, fast cars, suave bad guys and the dead guy in the river.

Tomorrow.

I promise.

fun and exciting things certain proxies and my weighted phrase can do together

2 days ago

Access to the pagehttp://outofjoints.blogspot.com/... has been denied for the following
reason:
Weighted phrase limit exceeded.

You are seeing this error because
what you attempted to access appears
to contain, or is labeled as containing,
material that has been deemed
inappropriate.
If you have any queries contact your
ICT Co-ordinator or Network Manager.

here's what i think of said weighted phrase weighted phrase weighted phrase proxies, kiss my black, shiny weighted phrase right after i've taken a long and deeply satisfying weighted phrase . you know, one of those weighted phrase that smell like a terrified skunk crawled up my weighted phrase three days ago and died.

Conundrum AKA The black man is quite fucked

co·nun·drum (kə-nŭn'drəm)
n.

1. A riddle in which a fanciful question is answered by a pun.
2. A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma

Africans are really special people. I mean, 3000 years ago, the chinese were busy making silk underwear which i'd wager were alot more comfortable than the raw hide, untreated leather thongs we africans used to sport up until oh, i don't know, 200 years ago?

3000 years ago.

goddamn. that is an almost incomprehensibly long time ago.

were there any africans then?

i think that's about the time a meteor hit west africa with a resounding bang and some loose soot-darkened single cell bacteriumoid came into contact with whereverthefuckthestonecamefromptonite and underwent a 2500 year transformation to become the hip, urban black man that we know and love today.

fuck that evolution story.

so a pal of mine broke it down for me.. africans were content. we didn't need shit, we didn't make shit... if mandingo was hungry he'd just sharpen a stone, attach it to a loose piece of stick and with great wit and cunning... ah fuck it, he just ran the damn antelope down, leapt onto its back and stabbed it repeatedly in the neck until it died.. and mandingo didn't need to remember shit with any accuracy, or tell his pals important messages, so writing wasn't really necessary either. i 'd really love to know how those creationist stories we told ourselves with such sincere conviction came from.

the chinese were also masters in many forms of martial art and could heroically overpower a charging tiger with no shirts on and cigarettes dangling from the sides of their mouth.

i think even veggies came with some loose interaction with some arabs or portugese or some shit... if we'd had our way we'd have barbecued the shit out of wild game till the second coming of jesus. in our leather thongs and ostrich feather sun visors.

before y'all start hating on my anti-blackness, consider the facts and forever hate that dude who said 'the further back you look the further forward you see' because the further back into black history you look, the blacker the blackness surrounding the black man blackens.

but we had the egyptians right? and akina queen of sheba. they even make loose appearances in everyone else's annals. and those other mysterious dudes who built some strange fort like buildings in zimbabwe?

all those dudes are rendered null and void by a cursory glance through any day's local paper. we cannot possibly, in any way be related to the people who built pyramids.

and where did they all go, anyway?

for 20% of your intellectual decadence and mental fibre(or lack thereof) class, discuss.