Girlfriend Woes: Drunk Angel

I wonder who invented stairs..whose sick idea was it to create these monstrosities I keep tripping over. Why didn’t he think of floating bricks that take you to the top? I am sure the idiot never drank alcohol because if he was ever as tipsy as I am then he would know that stairs are evil. Each one of them is a little tiny devil put here to torture me, making me regret every single shot I took….and oh boy they were many… as many as my age.Urgh, my age! .30!!. Me!. I am 30!!!!.Why me God?..why couldn’t I stay 29? I would even take 29.999 anything but 30. Now that you let me turn 30 you can at least send an angel to help me up the stairs or something..send a golden chariot..with loads of painkillers and water. I will wait…

 

No nothing? Not even the tiny angel in charge of the clouds or something. Oh well, I guess it’s for the best, this isn’t exactly the way I should meet an angel either way. My dress is riding up, I only have one heel on, my mascara and eyeliner have decided to use my face as a painting canvas, and I am not so sure I have my wig anymore.The only thing that looks presentable on me right now is my hand, I got a manicure..let me see….Okay, scratch that, I have dropped 2stick-on nails, and my hand is covered in mud… or at least I hope it’s mud. Eeuw!!!! Yep good call God..no meeting any angels tonight. Read more

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Girlfriend Woes:Dream Job

I wonder what would happen if I poke it. Would it explode like a bomb or deflate like a balloon. I know chances of it behaving like a bomb are unlikely but si inaweza kuwa noma . Right?

Actually no. Now that I think about it, his extremely large kitambi exploding like a bomb would not be fun. Imagine all the blood and goo…. Gross!  Poor him… Wait, what’s his name again… I am sure it starts with a K…Karanja, Kamau. No. No.  It wasn’t Kikuyu… More like Meru or Kao I always confuse those two. KIMEU .Yes!! Gabriel Kimeu. He’s the Managing Partner at White Ring Associates, number 8 on Kenya’s top 40 under 40, a loving husband, a father and most importantly my new boss. Or he will be once he is able to fish his dick from under that huge belly of his.

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Girlfriend Woes: Trapped

“Mommy Mommy”

I wonder if it’s possible to love someone more each time you see them. What am I saying? Every time I see this tiny replica of myself with her big brown eyes am sure my love for her grows ten folds. Each time I hear her speak  my heart widens with love…  each time she wraps her tiny self around me like she is doing now my eyes get teary filled with the happiest tears my body could possibly make.. Oh how I love her.

“How was school today Ella?” I ask as we walk to the car.

She is two years old now and in baby class. Everyone thought it was too soon. But Ella decided it was what she needed. She put up quite a good argument too. She sat me down two months ago with a very serious look on her face and went like” Mummy I love reading and I want to get better at it. So I think we should talk about me starting school.” Adorable right!! Oh, my smart little girl.

I would like to believe she got the love of books from me. Ever since I knew I was pregnant I would sit down with a book each night and read to her, I kept doing so when she was born and now, it’s our favorite time of the day. At the end of each day, she stands to survey the books in her room and chooses one and I read it to her till she falls asleep. She rarely falls asleep before the story ends, and even then she always has a million and one questions. “What happened to the princess mummy? And what about the talking birds? And what about the mouse that helped her? Mummy, can mice really make clothes?  She is the best.

I repeat my question as we near the car; she was busy waving at her classmates and teachers. She probably didn’t hear me the first time. Talking about her day at school is our second best activity of the day.

“I didn’t like school today mummy,” She says as I strap her into the car seat.

I look at her surprised and concerned. Ella loves school. She loves learning. Each day she tells me how she can’t wait to be the one reading me bedtime stories.

“And why is that hunny?”

She looks up at me through her lashes, the sparkle that was there when she ran into my arms has faded, and instead there is a watery layer to them. Her lower lip is trembling. Please don’t cry baby. Mommy will make it all better. I hold her tiny hand in mine and look into her eyes. Ella doesn’t like being rushed; she always takes her time to find the right words to say stuff, just like a little lady.

“Teacher Amy was teaching us how to write our own names, our mommy’s names and our daddy’s names today…”

My heart drops to my tummy. My insides flip.

“I wrote my name really well because you taught me that day at home, I also wrote your name mummy….” she goes silent, almost as if she didn’t know how to proceed.

“But I don’t know daddy’s name mummy…” she looks at me; the watery eyes have now formed at the edge of her eyes, ready to drop any second. She blinks, and they roll down her cheek. I wipe her cheeks and fix a smile on my face.

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