WhatYouGetForPullingThingsFromUpYourA**

Damsels and Sirs,

I have sat here for four bloody hours. I wrote when the curtains were opened and the lights were off. Now the lights need to be switched on and the curtains closed. Where is what you wrote for that long Bobby? In the bloody dust bin. No am not trying to be rude, its in the bloody dust bin. Not the recycle bin cause work that needs editing can be put in the recycle bin. At least with such a piece of writing their is hope, you can recycle it, edit it into a popular piece.

But then ladies and gents, we are talking about the post I wrote just before this one. I read it and even I was depressed. It was as boring as fuck. Wait fuck is interesting. It was as boring as bad fuck. Wait, bad fuck is interesting. It was as boring as boring fuck. Wait... Boring fuck is more... much more interesting than that post I wrote from the time when my curtains were open and the sun was smiling. I bet the sun went away cause it noticed I was writing my readers shit so boring, and the sun thought it couldn't be part of it. It couldn't be associated with such bad writing. So the sun set, and it was successful in convincing me to close the curtains. I think it was away of shielding the world from bad writing. Just incase the world peeped through my window...

"is that guy seated on that sofa Bobby? Why does he look so serious writing? Doesn't he know that last piece he wrote was shit?"

Dames and Sirs, I have spent the last four hours writing nonsense, I guess writing is art, it's not just something you pull up your ass; and comes in plenty like a running ass (a running ass has something in common with a running nose by the way, things come out of both violently and in plenty).

I respect the art of writing and writer's block. I will not try to force inspiration. So am done pulling things up my ass. 

See you when am inspired to write. Sorry for the cursing, what can I say. One, two, three, four... Four hours of forcing myself to write isn't something to laugh about. It hurts like depression and bipolar does. Or it the bipolar? Shitty bipolar.


Oh, before i forget you can tweet me your email if you want to see the shitty post I wrote. I will email it to you. Bye dames and sirs.

Yours sincerely,
@astoldbybobby 

Roses are red, Pickles are green, I like ur legs and all that's between!

I love my phone. Cause my girlfriend is in it. Yes, she fits perfectly in it, she is the perfect size. Everything is in place with her. Even my heart is right where it is supposed to be, in her. I look at her eyes, and I die. I close my eyes and dream about her eyes and I die. Through her eyes I see love, and love is beautiful, I love her eyes, they reflect the moon and the stars better than the stars and moon reflect themselves on the ocean, the perfect mirror. 
As in, I would, you would rather watch the reflection of the moon, the stars, the ocean in her eyes rather than watch the moon and ocean by themselves. And yes, I know how beautiful night at the beach can be... You know to, but nothing beats this with her wearing the dress I got her, happily holding my hand letting me look into her eyes which laugh too by the way. Nothing is as beautiful as she is. 

I know love, love is Safaricom Customer Care, no, it's not, not like that. Love is trying to call Customer Care the whole night and falling asleep while the phone dials.

"welcome to Customer Care... Your conversations maybe recorded for quality purposes..."

"Ngrrrrrr" (don't worry that's not a word, that's me snoring) 

Am not sure I snore, do you snore? Yes, am asking you, dames and Sirs both. Do you snore? No! No, let me tell you this... You don't know whether you snore or not. You have to record yourself. Which reminds me... "welcome to Safaricom Customer Care... Your conversations maybe recorded for quality purposes..."

I bet you right they picked the phone eventually.

"hello, this is Miss. Ngurumanjavu from Safaricom Customer Care, how may I help you..."

No, that can't be her real name... Can't you just let me imagine a girl called Miss Ngurumanjavu with a nice voice picked up my call... Why a hot lass Bobby? that's so typical. No, dames and sirs, Ngurumanjavu is not a typical name! Anyways, I hope she had me snore.

"hello, please I can't here you... There is noise in the back ground."

And am sure the phone lie on my cheek as I slept and snored. Probably she thought I was calling from a hardware shop, I hope I was snoring that loudly. Cause I think Safaricom deserves it.

"hello, I can't hear you... Are you snoring dear customer?"

Yes I was snoring...

"Customer, do you know this conversations are being recorded for quality purposes."

I would really love if my snoring voice was recorded in safaricoms data base. And you know what? Sirs and dames, none of your snores have been recorded in their data base except mine. I hope they even stored it in their safaricom cloud. Oh do I hate that advert...

Regardless I woke up, my phone was under the pillow somehow. Did I tell you my girl is in my phone. I bet you right I sleep with her. Sometimes in my dreams I think I dream talk her. No, I don't dream walk to Nairobi to say hi or steal food from her fridge. I am sane even in my dreams, I just pull my phone from under my pillow. I call her, most times I think it's like at 3am. And you know what... I tell her "I love her" I hope she records that for quality purposes... 

Where was I sirs and damsels, they had recorded my snoring in their safaricom cloud and it was morning. I woke up feeling awful, why? Cause my blackberry services were dead. And that sucks the life out of me, it sucks all the oxygen in the room. What is my baby wanted to send me a video via my email? Yes, what happens? What bloody happens? What happens if it doesn't deliver. And probably it is a video that lasts for ten seconds, that I reply and reply until the clothes she is wearing on the video get worn out and fade... Till she is naked... What happens when she wants to tell me she loves me in a voice clip... And my bbs are dead? Just before I went back to call customer care, my phone rang. Customer care had called me... Were calling me...

No, they weren't calling me to complain that I slept on them, slept on a girl woth a hot voice called Ngurumanjavu, they were calling me cause apparently I called them the night before complaing about my phone. And do you know what, I didn't call. My girlfriend called.

So here you are, your phone has a problem, you in a different town, and your girlfriends since cares for you so much, probably tried to chat with you and found out that messages weren't going through. She called customer care without your notice, and didn't tell you about it in the morning when she called, sometime in the middle of the day, customer care call you and tell you they have fixed the problem your girlfriend reported on your behalf. Ask me what love is, I dare you, no really I dare you!

Love is sharing a plate of prawns at the beach, and not just that, love is noticing that when those eyes smile at the burst of beautiful flavors... "waiter bring another..." love is sleeping on her lap. Her white dress that totally is appropriate for the ocean. Love is sipping the first drink that comes into your hand, whether hers or yours cause everything that is mine is hers and everything that is hers is mine.

Love is walking through shops on the neatest lane in the city and letting her fit everything. Love is walking into the changing room with her and kissing her every time she puts on a new dress. Love is trying to con the shop manager into selling the dresses at half the price unsuccessfully or successfully. Love is touching your girlfriend so often you piss off every guy in the shop woth jealousy until they charge you a kilo of gold at the price of a tonne of gold. Love is paying whatever for whatever your baby likes... Did I tell you how beautiful the moon, the stars and the ocean is at night? Did I tell you that nice shops are dark like night with nice lighting? Did I tell you her eyes smile? Did I tell you whatever it takes to make her eyes smile, must, must, must be done... Cause the moon, stars are beautiful yes, but they are most beautiful when you see them reflect in her eyes. That's why am flying her out for her birthday.... Cause the moon, stars and the oceans are most beautiful reflected on her eyes. No, really imagine, a night flight she is seated by the window, yes, she has to be seated by the window, she looks down at the waters below, the stars are in full view, the moon is closer cause we are up ontop of the clouds, then imagine how her eyes would look.

Before, I meet her. At that petrol station in Hurlingam, before she asked me or I asked her for her BB pin. My heart still skips when I think about that day... In her black range rover, matching woth her black pants and her dark shades. Me in the grey car, with the star on the bonnet. Very young, the both of us. So young and woth eyes for each other so loud. Even the workers at the car wash and the petrol station wanted us to meet. And we met. And she came at a time when things were fucked up. My life was falling apart... And I had to be there for my family, I had to hold myself together, keep a smile cause everyone on my side was falling apart. But I couldn't fall apart, I had to be their pillar, and their hope. But what had happened had affected me the most, we had actually run away to this other town, and I was dying inside, I just wanted to cry, but I couldn't, cause if I did, everyone else would cry realizing that their was no hope. And when everything was falling apart in my life, and the life of those I loved... The hottest girl in the world, who even petrol station attendants thought was a perfect match for me shows up and tell me...

"be careful, don't stare too much, your eyes would drop..."

I had had sex the night before, from some random girl. My pals waited in the car as I went up to that random girls apartment. I couldn't have sex at home, no, I couldn't have sex back home. Cause I was paranoid, any gorl might have been behind what happened. The horrible thing that happened. So, it had to be in a different town, I was in a different town. I came, and walked out of the apartment back to the car where my boys were at. We drove off. And I did Mombasa Road a speed that made even men scream. But they still noticed I wasn't happy... Am sure they saw it, cause they kept on asking me where we should go club... And most of the time they drag me out of the house... It was obvious to see I was ruined.

And then "be careful, don't stare too much, your eyes would drop..."
Yes, she is the most beautiful girl in the world. Yes, I had had sex the night before, woth some random girl. But the morning I saw this girl at the petrol station, I came. That's when I came. I didn't want to sex her, yes, her boobs are perfect... But not just yet, I wanted to know her...

I wanted to know what she loves to drink? What she loved to have for breakfast... Where she lived... If her heart was taken... Or if it could be mine... I wanted to know what her hobbies were... I wanted to know all about her... Somehow I felt like everything will sort itself up. And I knew it would. And it did.

I wanted to thank the heavens, but I didn't just know how, cause we weren't married, and it is weird telling Heaven you want her to be your girlfriend. Dames and sirs, I am not married. But I would marry her if you asked me. Cause the stars and the moon and the ocean look the most beautiful when they are reflected in her eyes.

I wanted to know what she loves to drink? What she loved to have for breakfast... Where she lived... If her heart was taken... Or if it could be mine... I wanted to know what her hobbies were... I wanted to know all about her... Somehow I felt like everything will sort itself up. And I knew it would. And it did.

I know what wine she loves, she picked it up herself as I dragged the trolley down the wine section at the mall. It stayed in my fridge. We carried it to a party, which we went to together. And I let her smoke the cigar I was smoking. Yes, cigar, cause she is the boss, and am the boss. I know what she loves for breakfast, Out Of Africa, yes, those are tea bags. Try them... She sends them via courier every time mine run out... I don't mind a long distance relationship with her. She lives an hour away from Nairobi, and has to drive to Nairobi everyday, I feel for her. I wouldn't drive to school for an hour everyday, I guess I have my dads genes, so I need a driver. And since am not at that point in my life yes, I don't mind giving her the steering. Seating at the co-drivers seat and playing woth the radio. Watching the bangles on her wrist dangle as she turns the steering and changes the gear. She can look at the road, I can look at her eyes... Did I tell you that the moon and the stars and the ocean look more beautiful reflected from her eyes? When it is day, I drive, and when it's night and we are traveling I let her have the wheel. We are seeing the world with her, my tank was full in the morning, and it is now 1 in the morning... We haven't yet arrived at our destination. She would rather buy sunglasses, but she fueled my car at one in the morning... No, we don't visit places woth Visa, that's not a place where love is...

I remember a girl I went for a date with once, I ordered a drink for her and one for me. When the two drinks came... She asked one to be returned. "I will just have one." and I was thinking what the hell? That's my drink you are asking the waiter to take back! And I was thinking how selfish are you... The waiter thought the same. It was the first and last date. Then their was my ex. Oh her. I got robbed on my birthday, and I needed a cab, I had a morning flight. No, she didn't pay for my cab. She'd rather buy a hand bag, cause that's what she was about... It's very frustrating when you are loved for the wrong reasons.

I finally got to know everything my baby likes... And sometimes I ask myself what the fuck I was doing chasing after all those skirts. When the girl that I was meant to be with is here. Who I share everything in common with, we share love, we share our lives, she shares her opinions, I share my dreams, and she understand, she shares our journals, I share my fears, she listens, and right about now, am going to call her and read her this piece. And she will tell me she loves it and I should post it up. 

I will be twice the man I am in twice less a time, she will be twice the lass she is, in twice less a time cause I have her and she has me. So, no, I don't secretly stare at you stupid girl and wish you are mine... I wished that one day. But now I look at you and I feel disgust. Her eyes are prettier, she doesn't have to sleep so that they look nicer, or do anything to them. They are natural like the stars, moon and the ocean, and the stars, moon and the ocean reflects on them so that they are more beautiful than everything you have seen. No, am for real, just look at her eyes... And tell me how I can secretly be staring at a girl I wish I had? And not staring at the girl who has the moon, the stars and the ocean in her eyes. Even more than that cares for me so much she sends me Out of Africa so that I take less coffee? The girl that calls Customer Care and solves my problem as I sleep. So that I wake up and find that all my problems are fixed.

Do you think you can think like that? No. I though so, please... It's a little pathetic that you think I secretly look at you and wish you are mine! I am property of my girl friend. The one with the eyes. 

And...

I love her.

And we fcuk.

If I fcuk you I would be thinking about her as I fcuked you. And I would not cum cause you aren't her. But let's me real, I wouldn't fcuk you even in my mind, cause you are not her.

I love you baby!

Hidden in My Briefcase

I defend my wife and family. I protect them with my very life. So, I went after them. 

It was heading to night, but not just yet. You know the prettiest part of the afternoon. The sun paints the clouds with many colors of the same tone. The sun rays are visible as they move in the horizon, beautiful. And the lighting is quiet, it reflects on everyone in the same way romantic restaurants reflect light on people. The perfect ambiance. The sunset rays emphasized on the beautiful features and down played the not so beautiful. I felt I was doing the same, emphasizing on the good of society, and down playing the bad. I was being the sun, which I was told during my science class was a star. A star closer to earth, were you also told the sun was a star? Or you were sleeping during that class. I understand, science class was always in the afternoon, after lunch. Nap time in class. We really can't multitask, get the joke? No. Yes... What a shame, no... Yes!

I was with them, the police, I had to carry them during this journey, first of all cause I am not stupid. Yes, I know law as law is, a lawyer as lawyer is, and I didn't want any trouble, I had to play by the rules, cause if I don't how  different am I from them. From the scum bags of society? No tell me how different am I from them. I know, I know, I am me, and they are them, and what they do, is inexcusable... Those bloody bustards. Rot in hell.

I was in my car. It is bullet proof, oh yes it is. Cause I know who I deal with, what use is resource if it doesn't protect you? Did I say am not stupid. That's why I was with the police. 

It was a convoy, we had a destination. I was in my car and they were in theirs, we had one destination. We were going after them. We were an army. 

But then please do tell me, how does one trust people you don't know? Don't you know that what beats you comes from within? Don't you know that? No? Then am telling you this. When your stomach aches, and you are rushing to the loo every two seconds. What is causing you the pain is within. It might have come from your dirty hands then got to your food and your food got to your stomach. But no one has ever had a stomach ache over dirty food in a plate. Even a kid who has been born right now knows that! Okay maybe not... But regardless, what beats you is within. And there I was moving in a convoy of police knowing that what bites me is from within.

We go to the house. We surrounded it. And it was all like a movie. 

I wish I had the loudspeaker, 
"Come out with your hands up..."

No wait, that's not how I would have said it,

"Come out with your bloody hands up..."

No, still, that doesn't do me justice for the harm these scum bags caused,

"Get the fuck out or I shoot you to bloody hell right now!"

That's more like it. And I would give them three seconds to come out. If they don't, shooting spree mister. Shooting spree.

But I am not police, so they don't let me carry guns. Am not police, so I don't get to shout,

"I told you I will come for you you bustards. Didn't I? Goes what, come out come out from wherever you are, meet your death... Meet prison... Meet hell..."

Oh I would have loved to scream that. But what I would have loved the most is to be in the house as they heard my voice. Am sure they would be peeing on themselves out of fright, no, wait a minute. That's too easy. I wish they would be taking a dump on themselves. Probably even wished they had diarrhea, and they couldn't hold it in, so that they moved around with houseflies following them around. 

I wished I could see movements at the windows, panic movements. Not knowing what they will do, seeing that they were surrounded. Check mate.

I wish the police would let me be the one to tell them,

"You are surrounded...."
No, that doesn't sound right...
"Get the fuck out you are surrounded!"

But as you know, this country only allows thieves and police persons to carry guns, not citizens. It's such a darling. NkT. Regardless, I would stand there, in the front line, gun-less and loudspeaker-less, only with a bullet proof vest and my eyes. I have to watch them go down. Even though I know that probably, the people, the convoy I am with maybe part of the scum bag criminals. All dressed up in blue. I know what bites me, is sometimes what is within. But risks must be taken sometimes, I couldn't go there without the police, I was gun-less. Risks must be taken sometimes, the army I was going to attack with might not be fully loyal, but again, risks must be taken.

"Come out with your hands up!"

The police would scream in the loud speaker. And I would think he was being polite. And the freaked out diarrhea-ing bustards in the house will be such great cowards the wouldn't come out, they will try to shoot a bullet, a random one because they can't dare to show their face. And the bullet would miss me and everyone else and hit my bullet proof car. And at that moment I would feel it was worth all I had spent on it.

Once bitten, twice shy. They shot one bullet, and like throwing a coin at good investment gives you four coins back, their shooting one bullet at me will give them four bullets back. Immediate and swift.

Puff. Door down. Smoke all over. The whole gang of them will be down. And yes, after the police break in I will break in too. And I will be carrying a base ball bat. Yes, and you know what I will do to the persons resisting arrest.

"Didn't I tell you I will come for you? Didn't I? now tell me, didn't I?"

And at that very moment, I will wear my sunglasses, through my base ball bat in the boot. Let the police finish their work and I will drive into the sunset. I will drive back home. Were my wife is and my family is. 

"Daddy, where were you?"

My daughter would ask me. 

"I had gone to install a new alarm system..."

"why?"

And I will tell her.

"Cause men protect their families."

And I will hand her a balloon cause kids love balloons, and I would hand her sweets, cause kids like such simple things until they are eighteen and want cars.

Please never bring me your case, I know lawyers are taught to defend everyone, but dare bring me your case to defend you after you have... And you will know why I will have a base ball bat hidden in my briefcase. Screw money. I am not a paper chaser, if that is what paper chasers do. Besides, it is all that, but it isn't all that, trust me, I know.

Dames and Sirs, intelligence is not picking a fight with someone with everything to lose, or nothing to loss. And they picked the wrong fight!

Hi Heaven...

To tell you the truth today am scared stiff, about... Let me start this properly though...

First of all God, forgive my sins, and not only my sins, my families since, you know they are closest to me, so forgive them, then next my friends. I know some of them have no idea what you are about mostly cause they haven't read Romans, please make them read Romans. But more importantly forgive their since, and everyone else's, and lastly my enemies. In that priority God forgive us through Jesus. Now I know You can hear my prayer better since after forgiveness I am sin-less.

Today God, I had a perfect day, almost perfect. Firstly I talked to my folks, we bonded though they sounded a little tired from the traveling. We really need a new good driver by the way, an honest one. One that will bring us good. Sorry, where was I? Yes, I had a perfect day. You know me God... A perfect day to me is a means to the end. You know I live today in a way that will determine how I will live tomorrow, but even as I am at it, I enjoy it today, cause I have one life. Let me get into details cause you are the one closest to my heart...

It all started like this God, I want a couple of things, one is comfort. So today I flipped the pages through Forbes, you know Forbes God, they have one for Africa now, and I will like to be in it one day. I went through it, learnt a couple of things or two. I also watched the show on NTV, the one at 1:30pm in the afternoon. It tells me about the market and all, I know we might try to organize the economy in our own way, but you see it better, you would organize it better. I will do all I can to out shine those you have blessed in my lineage cause that's what I believe is right, to do better than my predecessors, they would be proud they really would be. So how about Forbes? I would love to wear a blue, pink, no most likely red tie on it's cover, I am unsure but what I know is that I will look awesome.

If I make fortunes or not, I will run to all corners of the world and try to get the needy comfort too. I hope this shall work out. I did a lot of things today, all leading to my achieving tomorrow, and I also enjoyed the fruits of yesterday today. I remember I had it all, teenager me. I had all that money could buy, and I was so thirsty for people, for friends, remember how we lived under closed doors and gates. I learnt early that money isn't everything, relationships are, but not quite everything, but everything is a relationship with you. That's why I am up right now talking to you.

I have been telling you a lot, mostly "oh God I haven't read, save me from this one..." and once it is done get quiet for a while. "oh God I need a perfect day, I don't want to be a failure..." and then here is my almost perfect day, am happy, I enjoyed all it had to offer, and if all goes well, this day has shaped my future quite colorfully.

This is earth, so I know one day I will leave, Forbes list covers page will come, cars in fleets will come, premier world plane tickets too, but in the end when all is done where will I stay forever? If I can work so hard to do well in a paper, for a job I am unsure of, why can't I just work as hard to maintain my relationship with you...

Today I did it wasn't so much  "oh God I haven't read, save me from this one..."  today I actually opened the big book and listened. And you know what I read about rapture and I was scared. I know for Heaven to happen all I need to do is repent. I have, so please don't forget me. Don't forget me. I know I am bad, but you are perfect and if I ask for forgiveness I too am perfect in your eyes. Dint forget me.

I consider a perfect day I day when we talk and I do everything else I need to do to get in this world. We talked today and am happy. I hope we talk tomorrow so that we can be closer. Cause in the end, it is not the houses, it is not the cars, it's Heaven, it's You, and it's my family and my friends and all else, as friends woth you. In Heaven, the place woth big houses and the nicest things. Complete comfort and bliss.

I hope I have not written anything to offend you, I am even afraid of dropping a Bible by mistake. That has to count for something... Being that careful.

Good night.
And Thanks.

About Love or Writing?

I can buy cars,
I can buy gadgetry,
But I can't buy what's real,
And what is real is what you feel,
I can't buy that,
With all the glittery and flirty,
You might stick around,
But it's not the first time am here,
I know truth always out,
And the truth that you are hear for my glittery,
And for my flirty,
And not for who I am,
Not for what I can do,
That truth will show,
But right now that you are here,
Pretending you like seeing me all over the place,
Only to run mad and want me to stop,
Being so much in your space,
That truth will show,
And you will leave,
Block my everything,
Think no news about me,
Feels like blue balls,
Twirt block,
Pussy block,
Cork blocker,
Doesn't it?
You will leave honey,
You liked me and didn't know what I was about,
You were just being nice,
Or is it that I said hi,
Or someone asked you to like me?
Every time before I said something,
Flittered you a little bit,
We fucked,
We had fun,
But I know you are going to leave me,
The glittery is enough reason for you to stay,
But only for a while,
Cause I will be in your face,
And you will not like me,
And you will leave,
But now that you are here,
Let's have a good time,
Open your legs,
Bring your lips,
Let me show you off a lil bit,
You know human nature,
Whatever is taken is attractive,
And you are how I will trap a real one for myself,
Someone who loves me for me,
So that when you leave,
The new stays,
So that when you leave,
I will not feel used,
Cause I used you too,
Like you used me,
You used me,
And I used you to catch another,
Cause everyone likes what is taken,
Or can be taken,
Cause what can be taken,
Must have something sort after,
Right?
Right!

It Might Not Be What You Think

I have always wanted this,
I have wanted it more than you wanted,
What you want so damn badly,
I am always walking on a rope,
With this thing I want so much,
This thing I have so much passion for,
I have always wanted it,
And wanted it for what it is,
And what it is to become,
So guess what,
Am sticking with it,
Until it is not a dream anymore,
I believe it's worth fighting for for what it is,
A lot for what it is,
And even more for what it is to become,
If I sit it out!
Am siting it out,
All night till the sun rises,
And the sun sets and we celebrate,
Until it is so permanent,
This thing I want,
And all it will become,
Is it worth fighting for?
Yes it is.
Am sitting it out,
Until I have you,
Or is it it?
And not you?

If I Stand Up...

Damsels and Sirs,

"No, if you aren't feeling well you should go to the sanatorium."

"No, teacher, Sir am okay let me do the exam..."

"Just go to the sanitarium please, you can be exuded from the paper."

"Am fine teacher, please let me just finish the paper..."

And he was sweating. He was shaking all over. Ever seen how shaky rained on chicken are? no even I haven't seen one, but I know you can imagine how it looks, wet all over with water. He must have looked like that, sweating like a rained on chicken, wet like the same, and he was determined to finish the exam like a rained on chicken is determined to run. Before...

"the paper will be here, no one will touch it..."

To see that teacher beg that much was thrilling. Laughable even, students would have most definitely had fun immetating the snake of a teacher looking all like a deer, or rather bunny all kind and shit for the sweating quiet shaking student doing his exam. 

"just stand up go see the school nurse then come back and finish..."

You know, you should never give up when you know what's at stake. He knew what standing up and leaving meant. 

Let's just say he stood up!

Slap!

Yes, a book fell from his lap. He had been cheating, that's why he was scared stiff, all sweaty and all. He knew what would happen if he was caught. That's why he was all frightened. But why the hell did he give up? Why did he stand up knowing that book would fall?

Slap! Slap!

He was pushed back to the seat. And it wasn't smooth afterwards...

So lesson learnt here is. Never give up. If you have a book on your lap, and you know that standing up will get you in trouble. Sweat, shake, cry do whatever but seated. Don't give up and give in to what would hurt you.  I am seated on this blog. I am seated writing.

Talking about exams, horrible topic I know... They are trying to test us. Those bustards, but have you ever noticed how everyone is so noisy after an exam. All hyped up and energetic. Wikipedia says...don't judge my reading habits, i love to read, so as Wikipedia says, happiness comes from like four things... Things you just love like a hot long shower and orgasms. (okay that last part I added but it's true) it also comes from belonging to something, think family, think friends, think G-Unit, maintaining relationships... Not like G-Unit (still making up stuff but it's true) it also comes from achieving stuff. (think how you feel when you want to make CEO and you make it out of your own effort or whatever) 

So generally what Proff. Wikipedia. (if you reading this and you actually think this is a real professor please live, Sirs and Damsels, c they should leave? Agreed? Oh, what's that... A land slide vote... Out.
Proff. says that their are some things that will just make you happy, like a Private Jet, nice food. Apparently maintaining relationships will also make you happy, yes, don't hold back, visit Java with friends, it's good for you. After this post call mummy. Yes, really. You want to be happy! What else, remind me, what else did Wikipedia say? Umh. Good music? Yes... But no! Oh I have remembered, achieving, as in if you set out to do something and do it you will be happy. So Bobby, what you are saying is that if I had a toDo list and I achieved everything in it by the end of the dayi will be happy? Yes. Bobby says yes. I hope Wikipedia agrees, but let's be sincere. Who will go checking up that on wiki? If I started talking about everything that makes us happy, you could as well grab a blanket, it will reach a point when you will be too tired to pretend you listening.

We are happy when we are out of the exam room cause we test ourselves, we force ourselves to think, explore our limits. That's what writing does. Yes, it tests my limits. And the rewards are instant. A good post, spread it on twira. And right there is a retweet. No, I don't stick around twira for long. I go there at around 4pm, cause all funny people on twira show up at around 4, 5. Retweet what they are saying to my followers, yes, if you followed me you would know. And No, today am not giving out my twira user name. Cause some bugger who read my blog posted a lot of nonsense yesterday on my wall.

"Live simply, you have less than a day to live." yes, that's what the burger wrote. What do you think that was about! Faceless bustard. No real pics. Yes I blocked him, what do you think his deal was? But no am sitted like the cheating student (cheating in exam is bad though), am sitted on my writing. I know what will happen if I stood up. My book will fall. Slap! Slap!

I don't write on a stage, or infront of a crowd. No, so don't imagine me on stage like a musician pouring my heart like Drake does. If you want me to be on a stage, imagine me on a black board. My first line... Dames and Sirs...
Not a turn on. Right? If I was a musician on stage, then damsels would sing my words cause they know them by heart... And I would be screaming at them, fascinated at them more than they are by me. No, seriously, imagine Drake or Asa going to the stage with a camera to take fans photos. So flashes are on him and on the fans. Love right. That's how I would be. Good thing am not a musician, I write. And when you write, your fans are a little different. You don't meet them after a performance. You meet them on tweeter. And every time you see a retweet to you link you smile. I take a photo. Yes, am not on tweeter but my BB is very attentive. Every time my link is retweet. It send me an email. And when I find the email. I follow them. No wonder I follow many, I get retweeted often. I told you I love my fans more than they love me. So, don't be surprised to see me with a camera... Take a photo of me, I take a photo of you.

By the way, Lasses and Dudes, I was asleep. And as I told you, my BB is always awake. Yet another friend request. Have you checked out my Fan Book page. My Facebook profile is there. So this hot girl in a hat and all showed up wanting to be my friend. And you know what, men don't reject friend request from hot girls, and if you doing worse, you accept from anyone. Yes, even faceless request or ones with a goat. Like it is Facebook for Farmers and their livestock. Men, don't reject friend requests often, this hot girl  sent me a request... My profile photo is bogus, no you can't call it that, only I can call it that, "Bobby, it's actually nice. You look hot." no really, it's bogus, I have high expectations for myself.

'I crossed my fingers for this.' that was her first message to me. Yes, I accepted her request. And that turned me on. Oh yes, my ego is in the clouds. They say man has not been to the moon or to the skies. Those photos were photo shopped? Guess what... My ego was on the bloody moon. Yes, Bobby has been to the moon. In fact that's the title to this post. No? Yes! I inboxed her good night, and you know what Sirs, if I texted her a few compliments. No, really, Bobby using words to charm her, she would ask Wikipedia to include me as a source of happiness. I wouldn't say much, cause I might ruin my swag. My writing speaks for me, the blog and all. We would met, she would know how Bobby shags, and then we can be friends afterwards. I can tell her things, and you know sometimes a girl opens her legs until you open your mouth. Blog speak for me.

I accepted that one, I rejected the next. As in, this is a bloody ferry tale damsels and sirs. Am not used to all these notifications. No am not. I know Friend Request from hot women, but 'I crossed my fingers for this...' is on another level. Oh, Bobby has been to the moon. Yes, Bobby out his Profile right there on his Fan Page just to Flittered himself. Accept this, accept that at the flip of a coin. Before you hate... I get depressed.

Did I tell you this is a farry tale. Do you think ferry tales are real? No. Now imagine living in a ferry tale, a place where you talk and people listen, and they tell others about you. "Bobby, I love your blog you are so real." "emails... Bobby can I be a guest writer." "Bobby where do you find inspiration." ... No I can't write all of them here, that's like writing down all the sources of my happiness. It could get long. Too long it hurts. Yes, not that I mean the post. Should I call it 'Not too long it hurts'. "Bobby, if I was you I wouldn't stop writing, at least you have a form of release..." "Bobby, I will take care of you..." but "Bobby, marry me!" that killed it.

Did I tell you this is a fairy tale? Do you think fairy tales are real? Now I understand why everyone on E! Or on the cover of a magazine is up on drugs. Cause it's a fairy tale. "Bobby, I love your blog!" "Bobby I want more..." and you no what? A musician works before they get on stage, long hours, and for a moment, for a night, you are in front of a crowd performing. For a split second compared to the work you do. You sign autographs, everyone want more and more... And lights and cameras flash. Then in the morning everyone goes home. And you are left with your iPad to write another song. Did I tell you it's like a fairy tale? Do you think fairy tales are real? The compliments come for a split second. It's overwhelming. And yes, am a guy and I shouldn't admit this but it feels nice, total fairy tale. Magic. For a split second, and how long does a split second last. A split second. And there you are wondering? Was it a dream... Having everyone want more and more of you... The happiness you get for that split second is too much, it's the moon the stars and...

Am tired am not editing this. I want to move on to the next one.

Regardless, I know what I want. I will not stand up, cause I know what's at stake. If I stood up, the book will fall. Slap! Slap!

Virginity Is Like a SoapBubble, one Prick and it is Gone!

Ladies and Gentlemen, today we are boys and girls. Come on, don't be scared, we are all getting into a time machine. Yes we are, and we are going to fit in all of us here. The twelve thousand of us who visit this blog, yes I said if, twelve thousand. It's going to be a crowded. We are going to be squeezed (I can see people smiling) And now we are going back in time...

High school.

I was on the Paper, after kcpe, having done so well, how the hell did that happen? It meant two things, one I wasn't going to do gcse, if I failed then I would have done gcse, I was kind of hoping for that actually. But guess what, I must have had a brain. The second thing it meant was that I was going to the school I applied for as my first choice. A boys school. What can I say, I was a kid, unless my kcpe came with a motorbike, or a surround system in my room I saw no use for it. But it felt nice being paraded in church, at meetings, and being shown off. The spot light, I knew it would be over soon. Did I tell you I had a brain. And when it was over I would have to go back to boarding school with boys only, for one, two, three, four. Four bloody years. I wasn't ready. No, I really wasn't. I wanted a private school, where you didn't have to go for marathons, where teachers treated you like eggs and there were girls. I rejected my first offer, it was the best decision I have ever made. Cause first of all, I couldn't live without girls, second of all I couldn't live without girls.

High school. Remember high school? Hugging was banned, you know teenagers. Kissing obviously was as good as going to the staffroom screaming during a teachers meeting. Climbing on the table, removing your pants and taking a dump right there in front of the principal and all else. But why the trouble of going to a mixed school. I had seen ahead, again didn't I tell you I had a brain. How do you expect kcpe happened and all I did was buy books, cover them and shelf them until they got dust. Who read anyways? I knew as much as they separated us, as much as no kissing was allowed, as much as no hugging was allowed, their is no way you can completely separate boy from touching girl.

I stood there outside the cafeteria with a buddy of mine. Let's just call him Buddy shall we. I stood there with Buddy and we smiled.
"Can you see how crowded this place is?"
"yeah"
And we smiled.
A whole school of boys and girls and a canteen with a counter of three meters. People touched, and were touched. The crowd hide everyone. I like girls, Buddy liked girls and that's why we were there. That's why the whole school was there. We loved the crowd. Screaming at the canteen lady.
"one loaf of bread, ground nuts and chocolate."
I was never in that crowd, cause I didn't like the congestion. But this one time she walked into the canteen, she usually sent someone to buy her stuff but not this time. It wasn't becoming of me to go squeeze with the masses but she was there. So...

I leaned on the counter, got a note out of my wallet. Stretched my hand waiting for the canteen lady to serve everyone else then me. I was ready to wait cause she leaned on me. As in she leaned on me!!! I was in high school. I had never had sex. She leaned on me, and feeling her on me, my whole system shut down. She had the softest everything.

I hadn't noticed the canteen lady had snatched my money. I was still in a daze. I liked her. She knew I liked her. We were a thing. So even if she grabbed my nuts in the crowd it wouldn't be a big deal. It would be love. But this was the first date. All she could do was lean on me, maybe the next day. She would take a step and grab my... And the day after maybe I could lean on her as she leaned on the canteen...
"Bobby? Bobby?"
I got back from space. Noise had died down. Other students were staring at us. She did not get off me. She stayed there. Smiled at me. Hit my head...
"She is talking to you come on... Order, we don't have all day!"
"oh, 50 fudge chocolates please."

And even I wondered why I had asked for all that.
"I thought I would say one loaf of bread and groundnuts."

We were in class the next day and Buddy wasn't shy about talking as the teacher taught.
"eh eh, how did the canteen go yesterday?"
And I smiled.

Time went by. And canteen didn't happen again, but I gave notes to Buddy, to pass to Her. The worst thing you would do in high school was declare you were in a relationship openly. You would be shamed on parade, your grades would be under the microscope, and you would be used as a bad example. I didn't want that, no one wanted that, so notes passed through at least two hands before they got to your girlfriend.

Did I tell you Buddy liked to talk while we were in class. I liked to day dream, which was quiet and teachers had less a problem with day dreamers than they had with noisemakers. He was a noise maker, and I got into trouble.

I was made to go to the board and solve the math problem. And you know what, I was a day dreamer. Math wasn't English. It didn't come naturally. I freaked out, I got stage fright and everyone pitied me.

"Bobby, Bobby... Here."
She handed me her paper openly. The math teacher would never hear of it, if it wasn't my girlfriend. What can I say, she was so good at math, she was the teachers pet. And her she was, offering me her book in front of the whole class, so that all I was required to do was copy what was in the book and write it in the board. You know what, the teacher let me. Did I tell you she was the teachers pet, the best in math, and I was the bad boy. Am sure he was shocked, he let it slide.

And I wished class would end soon. And right there, in my heart I felt love. Cause this was a place with rules, rules not written but known. She had saved me. I loved her.

Class ended. All I wanted was the teacher to get out and I would hug her. All I wanted to do was give her the fifty chocolates I used to buy for her all at once. And the teacher got out finally, as I headed to thank her, almost kiss her...Buddy, Buddy interjected.

"You know I saw your girlfriend yesterday at the pool and I was wondering whether I could have her."

"okay."

What the hell Bobby? Okay? Okay? I wanted to throw a fist...

"get out, get out off class, go for tea."
The teacher forced as out. We were late, so we were running. I couldn't reach him. Then we were at the dining hall, we sat on different tables, all I wanted to do was punch him, talk to him, take back my words, tell him I wasn't okay with him having my girlfriend, who ever is okay with that? Then we went for sports, I could reach him, then there was supper, different tables, then class, prep time, observe silence, dorm, lights out, that day apparently they thought it was best to call lights out before time, he must have been behind it, is that ridiculous?

They say the best decisions are made when you are sober, not emotional, emotion clouds judgement. Give it a week then think about it. It works.
I was in bed, and emotions had settled now that it was evening. Why do I say that? I wasn't thinking from what angle I would hit him, I wasn't lying in my bed thinking what nerve he had to come in between me and my girlfriend? Did I tell you time makes you see things differently, anger clouds judgment? I started thinking thinking differently... If he was bold enough to tell me he wanted her? Who takes such a risk unsure of the result? All my notes to her passed through him?
And there right their in bed anger turned into depression. I lie there awake, thinking? How could he? How could she? She had saved me? Why did she? Why did he? What had they done behind my back? Had they done anything? Was I dreaming? I wasn't, cause the lights went on...
"wake up, wake up... It was morning! Already?"

Life is a bitch. It brought the three of us together after high school. They had been dating for days. I watched the relationship grow. At first I had hoped suddenly she would change her mind, and pick me instead. And somehow as we were the three of us I tried to impress her. I was sure they hadn't had sex, almost as sure they hadn't kissed, so I still had a chance, she was awesome so I though I might just let her have me back when she realised she had made the wrong choice. I would give her a hard time having me back, but I would have her back in the end.

We were always for lunch at some private club in Nairobi, that time club memebership was a bitch and the thing about club membership reciprocation was complicated. I was a member at clubs out of Nairobi. He was a member in Nairobi, so lunch was always on him. I had to impress her. I had to. So what did I do, I become a bitch and called home, had them have to apply for memebership for a club in Nairobi, so that lunch would be on me, and she would be impressed. I knew I had a chance.

I knew she would change her mind! Everyday as we had lunch and talked the three of us on those very comfortable and elaborate sofas, I thought I had a chance. And one day, Buddy kissed her in front of me. Wasn't she noticing me? Wasn't she? How could she not? Maybe they are actually in love. Maybe she loves him better. But still there was a little hope, he hadn't slept with her? Had he? I don't think so. Besides he told me all that they did, and each time a part of me died. How could he not notice.

I became a girl, I shopped more. Looked more awesome, she had to notice me even if she was in his arms. I wasn't sure what I would do if she choose me finally! I wasn't... I didn't know what I would do, besides Buddy was my pal wasn't he. Those were hard thoughts.

And one day we sat around friends at some coffee house. And we talked, I talked the most. And the stories that came out of my mouth made me look intelligent, strong, manly, better in bed, and you know I know how to draft a story. Everyone laughed, she laughed and she looked impressed. And soon it was time to go home. They dropped me off, they left together.

The next day, as we sat over lunch at the club. Home called, and they told me they had gotten club membership for Nairobi. I was excited and I told home I would call later.
I sat at the table, I knew after the way we laughed, the stories yesterday she would be mine. I would let her, I wouldn't kiss her, I think, how could I she had kissed buddy. But we could have sex. I watched her as she did everything proper, arrange her folk and knife and also her boyfriends then she left to powder her nose.

"Yesterday man, she finally gave in, I broke her and she actually bled."

"oh yeah..."

I left the table and called home.

"Just cancel the Club membership thing..."

"What do you mean? Do you know how..."

Line went dead." Yesterday man, she finally gave in, I broke her and she actually bled."Those words rang in my mind. Again and again. Forever.


It hit me finally, I will never have her, no kiss, no sex, no caanteen, no nothing. But what I wanted now was to see regret in her face, to want me and I would reject her, that's what I wanted, to see her regret...

It was in Nakuru National Park, the entrance to the park is a straight long road, clear except for the occasional monkey. No bumps and it was down slope. Buddy was in his Big car, I was in my Big car.
Two cars with an emblem on the bonnet, we had just gotten our drivers license.

"let's race."

Yesterday man, she finally gave in, I broke her and she actually bled. Yesterday man, she finally gave in, I broke her and she actually bled. This time I would be the first. We were on the road, side my side. He was on the left I was on the right, we ate the road. Heck we could have been at 200kmh per hour. I was concentrating so much on wining, being the first I didn't look at the road, I looked at his car. We were at per, and that's when the roundabout showed up right there in the middle of the road.

I could turn, I was trapped. It had to be an accident. I braced myself. I prayed and waited for death.

A miracle happened, he steered out of the road onto the rocks. He almost hit trees am sure his car was ruined jumping off the road like that. He wouldn't have overturned cause big cars don't overturn, but he would have met a tree. He risked his life. He made way for me.

I missed the round about by an inch. If it wasn't for him, I would have run over the round about and the car could have flown into the reception. Or the receptions roof. Did I tell you we were around 200kmph?

The place was filled with dust afterwards. The Game Park Guard called us out. Quarreled as, the tourists stared at us, from the buses even kids.

"do you know you would have killed yourself right here?"

He was furious. Everyone was. I swear had the cars we were having been smaller we would be in jail. And you wonder why I love cars with emblems on the bonnet. They command respect, no let's say fear, you don't want to piss off the wrong people or their keen.

"you would have died right at this spot..."

"...you are very lucky he got off the road for you."
But I had seen death. And when someone sees death, they don't need a lecturer. I looked at him.

He saved my life. He risked his life for mine. So what could I do? Didn't I tell him 'Yes, he could have her' back in high school? Regardless. But how can I be cross at someone you owe your very life too?

And at that very moment, I decided if I will carry all these hurt all my life, it will be the last.
Sometimes it is good to be emotional. Had I went in front of the dinning hall like a crazy person, screamed at him, punched him in the face I would have protected myself from all this? Sometimes you just have to be angry and short tempered, fight the girl sleeping with your husband cause patience sometimes is long, cause up to now am still patient.

MrGoogle and My iPhone5

Ladies and Sirs,
Good afternoon, the weather is perfect, clear sky and my emotions are in the sky. They are high proper. Perfect time to write.

As usual, let's start with a little marketing. My friend, Mr. Google. She is under 10 years but apparently knows much more than we all do combined. He gave me some advise on marketing my blog. 
Yes, you know him too well now, don't you? No, I will not tell your lecturer you consult Mr.Google during exams, don't worry. But I know you do!
Sirs and Ladies, Mr.Google in all his wisdom told me I should tell you guys to share my blog posts, the ones you like. And he emphasized that I shouldn't beg you, cause it's beneath you and me both to beg. He told me I should give you very strong reasons why you should like my fan book page on Facebook. He asked me not to blog as much too by the way. What can I say I can be a rebel sometimes, isn't this a Sunday blog? And am blogging on Friday! I can't just stop myself, it makes me feel in my complete element.

I consider myself a genius, some use that word to flirter me, some consider me... Which is not flittering, but either way, let's just say the majority carried the day. It's a democracy you know. So, since naturally, we are all selfish being as Google said, which in my opinion is kind of intelligent, to some extent. Isn't it the whole point of survival for the fittest. Guys are running around in green screaming global warming, you know how evil they have made smoke emitting companies look, even in cartoons, and years back, we loved smoke in all forms, there was even an advert 
'my doctor smokes embassy, smoking is healthy' 
Whose doctor smokes embassy today? We are selfish, to the extent we want good for ourselves, and think global warming, it roots come from our being selfish too, we don't want companies spoiling our environment for us and our kids and thus how selfishness turns selfless.

Don't worry am getting back to topic, in a minute... MrGoogle asked me to ask you to share the posts you like, and like my fan page. Apparently
 'ask and it shall be given to you in full measure...' works. Mostly on the internet, cause Internet forward people are very generous and kind... Intelligent too. 
Here is my string string reasons for asking you to like my page. Doing what MrGoogle said... When you like my page it's like accepting my friend request, you find my updates on your new feeds, thus means every time I post a blog post it will be like I have updated my status. Twira is generally obvious too, if you follow me, you find my updates as tweets in your TL. (twirl jargon hehe) Since you already like my blog, umh, imagine how better it will be in a few years? With all the help from MrGoogle and the thing about Practice makes perfect?

If you don't like my page however, I will disappear out of your life forever. It's like you have rejected my friend request. And you will continue to live, and I will continue to live, and our life's will be perfect, but we will never know how you are doing, how I am doing and that will be tragic. And I will miss you, but you know Ladies and Sirs, I did my part. So are we breaking up or are we bonding?

The skies are bright and my apartment is being cleaned. The house help showed up today. It will be one of the last days she cleans this house, cause as you know am moving. (Only those who like my page know this, hehe, marketing yes, no?)  I am thoroughly excited. I have an exam coming up, but you know human nature, exam is never a priority, so instead I will head to Nakumatt Cinemax later on this afternoon, have their Ice-cream, there is a restaurant there with yellow umbrella shades and leather seats. They have see food and ice cream Sundaes so large you can't see your date on the other side of the table. Once this mama is done cleaning, I will go have myself a fresh shower, press the shower gel a little more generously, wear comfortable shoes and go window shopping and ice cream eating alone.

Yes, alone. Why am I doing window shopping? Cause I think that's what genius is all about. Achieving an end, achieving a goal. And my goal is to have my project complete. By project I mean the work to be done on my new house.

I am unsure whether the iPhone 5 is out, you know the one with the laser lighting and all, I don't know about it but I will get it. I have heard enough rumors about it. I will book the first lot when it is out, a phone with laser lighting you cannot just put a price on it. 
You see, the ones who make the iPhones are genius, cause genius is an end, a goal. I bet the whole thought behind the iPhone was, 
'phone screens scratch and look old' 
then the geniuses who made them told themselves, come on guys how about we make a phone that is scratch proof. 
You would say the guy who came up with the holster (pocket case) to cover phones was a genius, the holsters you buy on the streets, since they served the purpose, the phones don't scratch when in the holster.
Then you would call the guy who came up with the BlackBerry Storm 2 holster even more of a genius, cause the phone recognizes when it's in the holster. You can set it to vibrate and ring when it's in it's holster and to get to silent mode when it's out. That's an additional feature, which I consider genius, it serves the purpose, it doesn't scratch and it has other added advantages. 
But then we have the iPhones, should we get a holster for the iPhone? No, let's make a screen that is scratch proof. I still haven't gotten over the idea that my iPad screen will never scratch. I don't need a sleeve for it, the screen is bloody scratch proof. Tell me you can show me an old iPhone and I will show you a lier.

In my line of thoughts, I see the world like that. No, I do not invent iPhones, not even the sleeve, if I did I wouldn't be writing this. I would be busking in the glory of my success somewhere in a private island. 
I see the world like that, as ends, and right now the end, my goal is to renovate my new house, customize it to what my personality is about. (an extension of me like this blog is) And yes, I can be organized like that, I have a strategy for everything. If you were in Bobby's mind you would be playing chess from morning till evening, even when watching Telly. 

Right now I have a plan, I can't stop myself from trying to arrange my life. House help finishes cleaning the bathroom, take shower, wear comfortable shows, go to Nakumatt Cinemax, meet friend, have ice-cream and some snack, look at house plants, put down their cost in my phone, go to Nakumatt Nyali, look at lighting fixtures, take down their costs, check out leather sofas, note down their cost, as I head back to town, reply to my emails, get my KRA Pin, go to School, get home, call my girlfriend, watch the news, order a pizza... (pitsa as my friend says it, I bet he combs his hair before he sleeps, he is so proper)

I live randomness to sex, partying, and weekends. I shop on impulse during weekends, I kiss at the command of my heart. But on weekdays I go according to plan, I deviate a little though, cause that's life, but mostly I go as by plan. If I don't, then things take another turn... Bobby, which turn?

Here we are, end of the month, there I am, I haven't packed, my land lord is shouting on the phone, asking me when I am leaving, and what is ringing in my mind is, where shall I find all this damn boxes to pack?

Bobby, that isn't as bad. Yes, it isn't but am not the kind to settle for that 'not bad', I like the best, what can I say. I like seeing things work out the way I want them too. Getting what you want is addictive you know, you can't turn it off. You get out of home, and the script is flipped, you forget to buy breakfast you wake up running to the shop. You forget to buy dinner, you sleep hungry. You forget to go to the bank you have to use a taxi, they are the only ones that can wait for you to go to the bank wait for you to withdraw something then pay them later. Getting what you want is addictive, and it just doesn't have an off button. And let's face it, if I don't get what I want I get depressed, and Bobby will start writing very depressing posts, no jokes, do you want that? No, tell me, really do you? Yes... You are unbelievable. Anyways, so what's the solution? The solution is chess. With chess you get all you want, and getting all you want is rarely served with depression, more often than not it is served with happiness on a silver platter. And not just chess, chess with results. I don't  want to invent a scratch proof screen, I just want to have it, buy it, and to buy it I need to draw a bloody budget, why? Cause am not bloody home, where I can get a flat tire and make a phone call to get picked up. Am alone here, I am independent. (sucks, in it's own way but also it thrills, yeah, I know)

So, shower, collect all estimates cost of all the house plants, the electrician, how much are they charging these days by the way these days? The carpenter? the fixtures,? items at the hardware stores...? And at ends day I will arrange them with priority. I want to get the keys a week before I move in so I guess money must exchange hands, (bribe?) I need to get a radio to play loud music so that the neighbors don't call the land lady screaming that someone is demolishing the apartment downstairs. I want all the workers to work together, cause the carpenter must work with the electrician, and the radio must work with them all, cause they are going to tear down everything I find shitty, like the curtain box, the tailor must be there, working together fixing the curtains. And the radio must be loud, so that when the landlord asks what's all the racket about, he wouldn't know am destroying his curtain boxes replacing them with rods, knocking down the doors and replacing them with glass doors. He will think am just having a party, unless you share this post with him. Don't! With your friend, yes, definitely...

The day I move, I want it to be ready, I don't want to move my things and have some plumber with smelly feet stepping on my carpet. I don't want to sit down watching people work, make sure they don't steal my things, I want to leave them with keys in an empty house a week before I move, and I want them to complete their tasks in a week. Besides, it takes sometime for paint to stop stinking. Which man let's his girlfriend sleep in a room smelling paint, I want to be the reason why she runs out of breath, not my walls, or DuraCoat! Shish...

I like what I want when I want, do you like what you want when you want? No? Yes... We not home, home is home cause someone makes everything fall into place so well you don't realize that generations and generations of your family has somehow indirectly made it that way. 
But guess what, you have home forever but not everyday. No one reminds you your dish subscription is expired, no one reminds you to pay your electricity bill, (stupid Kenya power, it's very barbaric to take away my fuse, who dies that?)
No one reminds you to pay your bills and if you employ someone to do that you will not buy an iPhone5, and it's you who will get mad when you open the fridge at night and find emptiness, after a long day that's what you need dammit, it's you who will wake up in the middle of the night and find that you do not have drinking water, and you will get more mad, and when you turn on the Telly to take your mind off your trouble the stupid decoder shows red, and the screen is black. And you get so mad, you are so hungry, you can't find food cause it's too late, you take wine and bread, cause thats the only thing that never gets finished. So, wine to replace water, and bread to work as supper. (don't tell anyone, its embarrassing having bread for dinner, we not in freaking france)
You serve this weird meal the set the table cause even when you are eating air burgers technically, you have it in style, with proper shiny cutlery, and out of habit you turn the Telly on again, and yes it pisses you off again, and when it pisses you off you contemplate on breaking the stupid decoder, not knowing that it is you who will pay for it. As well as collect its broken pieces on the floor the next day when you are sober. And you just drink your wine and eat your bread, and mosquitoes aren't sensitive, even when you are having a bad day, they still want bite you cause you forgot to get refill you mosquito repellant. Insects are so uncivilized! NkT!

And your girlfriend calls you, and you talk back at her, then she hangs up. And you love her, and you are mad at yourself for taking it out on her, and all she wanted to day was good night. Now what have you done Bobby? Wait a minute, you can't call her back? You didn't buy airtime? Oh Bobby... Mosquitoes. NkT!

What can I say, my script was flipped, I got into a different world, I got out of home, things just don't happen by the way! 
You just have to make sure everything falls into place out here, you screw up and you sleep hungry that night. 
It's a different world out here, I could bitch but nothing changes, people are concerned but soon you become a nuisance to them, cause it never stops. 
So you got to sort it out yourself, just think a day in the future, plan and make sure all falls into place the way you want it to, not just fall into place normally, but fall into place perfectly and even better than you wanted it to. And that's why you must be a genius, life forces you, how else can you feed your addiction for getting what you want? Play chess. Don't invent a holster to prevent your phone screen from scratching, don't invent a holster that BB can detect, get a freaking phone that is scratch proof. The best solution.

As I said, I am moving out, and the house help is almost done, all to do now is shower, then ice cream, then Nakumatt, then decide what I will buy and what I will not, optimize on my time mostly, then other resources, so that I have everything and a little left over for my iPhone 5. Does it really run on laser?

When you discover getting all you want is addictive, and getting all this doesn't come like home comes, all you can do is play chess, until everything falls into place like the iPhone 5 will fall into my hands. And my baby will go like 'oh my, oh my, oh my' it will speak for itself, I wouldn't have to start explaining why there are men with smelly fit in my house...

Don't let me miss you. Accept my 'friend request', follow me. Am in your life, be in mine! Share mine...

When all you want is your greatest addiction, and playing chess is a must, you have to be genius, or you will never be happy or feel alive!

Only if we let us...

Am just saying i can do better,
Am just saying you can do better,
If only you believed there was better,
And if the better you believed had better,
Then your heart wouldn't stop until it had better,
Am just saying I can do better,
Please just let me do better,
I am sitting here doing nothing better,
Even though I know their is better,
Am just saying I can do better,
I wish I could hope for better a little better,
I wish I could dream for better a little better,
I wish I could get my self to seize better better,
Am just saying I can do better,
Am just telling you can do better,
Only if they let you do better,
Am just saying we can do better,
If only they would let us do better,
Am just saying we can do better,
Only if we let ourself do better,
But is is very hard to do better,
to do better you have to be better,
And to be better you have to better your better,
We all believe we can do better,
But I believe the most I can do better,
I need to bring myself to do better,
Prove to you and to myself I am better,
Who else is saying they can do better,
I want to say this a little better,
So that everyone knows they can do better, 
But not all will do better,
Those who will do better,
Are those who thirst for better better,
And will do it better to get better,
Am just saying I can do better,
Please let me share this better,
Am just saying I can do better,
I have said it again for you to hear it better,
Share this post to someone who wants to do better,
Am just saying I can do better,
Am just saying you can do better...

Am Leaving 'Her' For Better

"oh my, oh my, oh my..."

No. That isn't what I want her to say. That is how I want her face to look like. Oh my, oh my, oh my, should be written all over her face. I want to see that sparkle, nothing beats a girls sparkle. It's the essence of every man, to make a girl's face read oh my, oh my, oh my. 

I want her to almost choke at how big it is. I want her to feel it's presence looking at how manly it is. No, am not talking about sausages, or loli's, or wiwis. Or chuchus. Hehe. Am talking about my house. My new apartment. I want her face to read, oh my, oh my, oh my. Not to say it, cause with words one can lie, but hips and smiles don't smile. I want her to almost choma at how to be it is, freeze at the door. I want her to feel how manly it is, and I dint mean the smell of dirty socks and cum. I mean, the ultimate bachelors den, that should represent what I am all about. An expression of myself.

Dudes and damsels, I know what you were thinking at the beginning of this post. Not everything is about sex. No? Okay. Sex sells. Guess what it does, Kenyan porn, Kenya porn, nude girls, Bobby stop. That's a very cheap way of marketing your blog. You think just cause you mention Kenyan porn, Kenya hot nude girls Nairobi sex you will get your blog picked up by Google? Bobby, that's cheap. Bobby stop. Ladies and gentlemen sex bloody sells. But I find it in bad taste to... Do you see the search box down there. Yes, on this blog. Every word you type there shows up on my statistics (the part where you need a password to see) and oh I find horrible things there, Kenyan babes, hot girl, nude... Bobby, now that's too much, you don't want me to say, sex, nude, big, ass Nairobi? Okay I will not say sex Kenya, big boobs Nairobi. Opss. But so you know those words are decent, compared to what i get when i input a password. I thought I was a pervert until this blog. Stop searching for porn in my blog, hakuna, go to google.

Ladies and gentlemen, enough marketing. Bobby that was really cheap, I can't believe you sacum to peer pressure. From who? Other bloggers. Which others? Ops. I promise you am going to be serious about getting back to topic. Actually I promise to make a fresh start and talk about my new apartment and the essence of what it will become.  Will start afresh lile you always swear to start going to start jogging a fresh on new years eve. In my case i will start a fresh in the next paragraph. Okay, here we go. (breath in, breath out, next paragraph... Fresh start)

I hope I will get an oh my, oh my, oh my on her face. It has two bedrooms cause all hot girls go out with at least a friend, you know... The other must sleep somewhere if a threesome doesn't happen. And as Barney in How I Meet Your Mother said, 'a threesome is a very rare occasion.' now am taking advice from television sitcoms? Not books, comedy sitcoms. Regardless anyways, since a threesome is as rare as meeting with a hyena that doesn't laugh badly, (again as Barney put it) my new apartment has two bedroom. Cause it is reality, it's not threesome. It's down to earth. Do you really think that's the reasons I would have two bedrooms yet I live alone? 

She, my apartment has one living room, a corridor leads to the sitting room, one side of the corridor has a wall and the other side of it is open like a balcony. So even when you get into my house through the front door. You are in tune with nature. Even when it rains, Mombasa is as Mombasa is, no one wears a damn sweeter. If you don't like someone, ask them to quit their job and come sell blankets and sweaters in Mombasa. As broke as a church mouse... You see what I mean, the weather is perfect, warm always, so nothing feels more exciting as opening a door into an open balcony.

My new apartment is the pent house, it has a chopper pad at the roof top. The lift opens to my sitting room.  No it doesn't am not Tibunu, yes he is a lawyer like me, he made the cover of Forbes Africa for those of you who dnt read it. My new apartment is on the second floor, mostly cause the building doesn't have a lift, it's as old as a castle. And remember castles, as old as castles, they dont have lifts, they have something better. Remember the first mobile phones? As big as phone booths. See why I like old buildings, they have character, they have history, they have personality. They have space.

I don't have a chopper pad at the roof top, no I really don't. That would be just unfair. Instead it has two balconies. Did I tell you Mombasa is as Mombasa is, on one balcony I will have a hammock. Yes, like the ones you see in cartoons. (and am not taking advice from cartoon characters) Total relaxation. I intend to have one there so that when my girlfriend comes over we can spend the night there. I have one of those night stands, the long lamps shades that are as tall as you, I will put one out there with a switch that dims the bulb. And often she and I will be sleeping on the hammock. Right there I will show off to the night sky, telling it that it might be beautiful cause it has stars but the real stars are here, right in my babies eyes. And that balcony must have a house plant as big as a tree. Have you seen Trumps Beach House, it has trees in the house. I must pass by Cinemax and get myself a tree in a pot. It will definitely match with the lampshade at the balcony, and trust me, I would love to water that plant. Sometimes with piss when I don't want to get into the house to get a lick, and sometimes when I am trying to write you something but I have no inspiration, I will actually get water from the kitchen and feed the plant. Even water from the fridge so that mother nature becomes merciful and gives me inspiration. Why cold water? Fridge water? Cause Mombasa is as Mombasa is. Even my plants should enjoy cold drinking water.

So where is the water from? The kitchen. Where my fridge, microwave and all the shenanigans that live in the kitchen. The kitchen is my queens palace. She loves to cook. I walked into it the first time and my heart was pleased. It looked so lovely. Memories are going to be made right there, you read my blog right? Remember bad chicken! Baby, now you can cook bad chicken in style. Am going to call in an electrician to wire the bulb into three bulbs, then drag them a meter lower. I will pass by Nakumatt Nyali to get three lamp shades. You know the metal ones that look like a cup. Low lighting, modern. My baby must enjoy her cooking, I must call the plumber, to change the tap, I want a tap that looks like a giraffe, the type that splashes water out with a hush sound. Like a splash. The chrome metal shiny tap will definately match wth the two low lighting chrome metal lamp shades. You will let me hug you from the back every time. Trust me. Oh my, oh my, oh my.

I want curtains, long curtains, that run from the floor to the roof. No, I will do away with the curtain box. And no, you cannot share this post with the land lady, what do you expect will happen if he finds out I am re-wiring the whole electric system, lighting and taps. Even the damn curtain box am doing away with. She isn't young like a curtain box less house. She doesn't believe in having a metal rode that matches low lighting chrome lamp shades is the most elegant way to hold curtains. Her curtain box will not survive anyways, cause I plan to have the heaviest, the most darkest velvet in the color of blue of curtains. And they will match all over the house. With their pretty little ties, you know, the belts with the string-ies, fancy thing-ies that hold a curtain to the side. And yes it holds them on the side as beautifully as a girl holds her undies to the side. Open the curtain, see the world. Make love to the world.

Let's talk about making love. Let's talk about my bedroom. It will be plain, like Feigh Chui. (check up that word). Modern is advan arge. And my bed room shall look like that. I don't want too many things all over the place by the way. First, cause the house help doesn't come as often as I want to. Didn't I tell you am not working yet? Unless she takes Movie and Series as salary, I cannot flood the house with too many things. Who will clean it.

"Now that you are done washing the dishes, carpets, boxers, toilet, sofas, and cooking food. Here is How I Met Your Mother Season one!"

"Kumamako, hii ni ushoga wainagani wee? Unanipatia nini hizi? Ati How I Met Your mouther, Kajifire nazo, mi nipe pesa zangu ni ende!"

"No, it's a series, you dint have to get all abusive on me, just accept it as payment."

"Habu niangalie, Mimi. Look at me, just cause you think your Telly has a big an ass as mine you think I am a television to give me Series? Eh?"

Do you want that to happen to me? You know Waswahili women.m if she is going to clean after my shit and cook for me, she has to be paid, or else she would give me domestic violence, and am a gentleman, like all else gentlemen are reading this. If a girl slaps me, I just walk out like a pussy, cause girls are mothers, and mothers can never be slapped back. I am Bobby and sometimes am a pussy, but pussy is nice. Anyways, if she slaps me too much I will get my girlfriend to slap her on my behalf, cause gentlemen are powerful like that. But it will never get to that cause, I will not need to pay her as often, cause I will not need her as often, my bedroom shall be plain and simple, but thoroughly elegant like a Jaguar. A jaguar comes ready, who need to pimp it? My bedroom will have everything shut down in the wardrobe. The large floors will be bare except for a bedside carpet. But the bed, oh the bed will add flavour, heavy flavor like the heavy curtains. It will be the choicest of beds. Very low, box-ish. Almost touching the floor, and large. Bed side lamps are a must. Neat and plain. It must face the windows, so that the sun says good morning right in my face when I wake up. And I want the electrician to do his thing. I will not light the room, I will light the walls to the room, so that the effect is romantic, fancy lighting perfect ambiance, a collection of shadows and light. Why? Cause everyone is prettier in dim lights, sleep comes easier in dim lights, because I will watch Telly lots in the bedroom and the plasma screen looks sexier in dim lights. But there will be a mirror somewhere, not close to the glass table where the bedside lamp chills, where I place my phone as it sleeps. There will be a large mirror, on the wall close to the wardrobe at the corner of my bedroom.

It will be perfectly lite, there will be a flood of spot light at the corner, which will never overflow in the room. That is important cause I might want to dress at night, and I need light to see how good I look in the mirror. And if I look good enough I know some girl will be dancing for me looking at herself in the mirror, consider that foreplay. The mirror will tell her she is beautiful. She will be on the stage, and the stage has a spot light so large you don't see the audience, so don't be shy cause you can't see me drooling over you. I wish I could get a pole to go with that corner, but I know my folks will visit, whic they never do. I could be living in a hole for all they care. All they do is send rent and ask me to be safe. The last time I picked my pops from the airport and brought him to my house he kept saying.
"lovely, lovely, lovely..."
When he went back home he sent me something to buy an air conditioner and have the loo fixed. 
This time, they will stay, my mom and pops, at least for lunch or something. That's why, no pole. No pole.

Let's talk about thing I will have to hide when my folks visit. Wine and alcohol. No, my folks are perfect christians. I have gotten away with Champagne bottles back at home, but I don't want to take the risk of rubbing off on them the wrong way. I was thinking of a wine cellar, but let's be honest. I don't have a chopper pad at the roof top. So, wine holder will do. Besides they are easy to hide when you have company. About ten is a good number, and definitely the empty bottles I will keep. As trophies to house parties.

Let's talk about house parties, lovely, lovely, lovely. Two balconies, one with bar stools. It's at night the boys are smoking Nothing at the balcony. The girls are cooking in the kitchen, and we are exchanging roles at times. Girls smoking something boys in the kitchen, pretending to cook but just to make the girls cooking laugh, cause when girls laugh the food is nice, cause when guys laugh, the food isn't as nice as a girls food. But let's face it, chics feed kids with boobs, they have to be better cooks than guys are. Regardless of stereotyping, there are exceptions. And the exception is parties aren't parties without smoking Nothing. No, no smoking nothing on my balcony, not in my new apartment, I don't want to be kicked out from there. Come smoke it in my old one, the last days I am here.

Let's talk more about food, let's talk about a well stocked fridge, am talking cheese, cottage cheese, am talking salad, in all the colors, pink and green. Let's talk about drinks, I want to have options. 

"Baby, can I get you a drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Everything baby!, Everything!"

"Get me a sprite!"

"I tell you everything and you dare ask for a sprite? A damn sprite? Ask for something that will show appreciation for the effort I have put woth the coffee machine and collection of vodkas!"

"hehe, dint bite me then, give me a Dirty..."

And I will pour her that, and we will sit in the sitting room. I will sip that as we watch Telly together in the sitting room. The carpenter, the electrician, the plumber, tailor and a shoe cobbler will have to come fix my siting room. And no, am not telling you what they will do, but what I promise you is this. My new apartment will be guy and girl accommodative like mirrors in the shower and pink shower gel. Oh, and a very large shower head. Both of us getting rained on as I get head and as she comes picking up soap. Wet. Wet. Shower wet. Scream. Rain. Nice. 

I can't quite remember the exactness of the measurement to my apartment, if I did I would rush to buy it new curtains, a new bed, and extra one, for the other bedroom. I am tempted to park things here. Wrap them up in boxes, but I have to wait till months end to move in to the new house. I sometimes wish I had paid rent for this month, then i would have two apartments this month! But tell me, don't you want an extremely elaborate house party? Money grows on trees, I don't have that tree in Mombasa. Regardless, tell me, don't you want an extremely elaborate house party? It is big so a million people can attend. And we want nyama choma at the balcony, we want so many drinks we have to get a champagne bucket, make that buckets to sink in the drinks that didn't fit in the fridge. What are Chrome metal buckets with vodka bottles and wine bottles, soda bottles and lemonade bottle, what are these buckets about with cardial bottles in them wothout the icecubes to chill them?So i guess what we are concluding here Sirs and Honeys is that, let's get ice cubes, not the ones I made in the fridge, the ready made ones. Remind me to pick paintings and photos from the shop as I buy sacks of  ice cubes and drinks. The walls must look neat, shiny like the cover to an iPhone, with portraits as beautiful as my girlfriend.

So, until next month I sit and plan, on the new that will come in my new apartment. I am as curious as you are, you know life is a roller coaster, and they are nice and thrilling with their sudden turn of events, we scream, we laugh, we throw up, we laugh at ourselves. Bobby, are you talking about a roller coaster or life? Both but mostly my new apartment, are you curious? Picture me. No really, picture me and the excitement that cannot let my heart be still. Be still Bobby's heart. Stop moving around like a vampire.
Sirs and damsels, talking of hearts. What heart leaves without looking back? I am here, and have loved this place, but it's time for better. Don't you agree? Development, don't you agree. Wear your shorts, and polo shirts. Wear you favorite dresses, or shorts if you want. Not very tight ones, I don't like bad taste in my house. But if you wear tight ones, wear a loose top. Relaxed. Come let's warm this house.  House warming party.

"oh my, oh my, oh my..."

No. That isn't what I want her to say. That is how I want her face to look like. Oh my, oh my, oh my, should be written all over her face. I want to see that sparkle, nothing beats a girls sparkle. It's the essence of every man, to make a girl's face read oh my, oh my, oh my. 

And Weed is Illegal

One day I hope all things shall explode;
and the smile on my face will be sure;
Certain.
The smile I wear right now is unsure;
it could go anytime,
For what I seek I don't have for sure,
Meaning I don't quite have it consistently.
Ever borrowed something you really liked?
Something you really wanted but you didn't have,
Yet someone gave it to you,
You know in the end you will have to take it back.
That's the bliss I am talking about,
It feels borrowed.
The smile I wear is like a borrowed dress,
I hear it's okay for chics to borrow dresses and shoes,
It's part of their bonding,
Provided the person it is lent to doesn't expand it,
Both the shoes and the dresses,
Girls can be so cute.
Anyways as I was saying,
The smile I have right now is flickery,
It comes and goes, 
It comes and goes,
I know someday in the future it will be consistent,
Without interruptions like sun light is,
Like stars are,
No flickering smiles,
Just one complete smile,
And that is the day when most things will have fallen into place,
I mean most things in my plan,
I know I will want other things though, 
Even when everything falls into place,
And I have a consistent smile,
But you know the sky is the limit,
The worst thing I could do right now is give up,
Or start to question the essence of everything,
Questioning is good, 
But only to some extent,
Sometimes all you need to do,
Is just look ahead and run away from the fire of dissatisfaction,
Work your ass off and what not,
To the comfort of satisfaction and consistent smiles,
I believe a perfect day can only be tailored by perfect thoughts,
And the perfect thoughts create the perfect attitude,
What do you mean the glass is half full?
It's also half empty dammit,
Am not a robot,
When something is bad the thing is bad,
But with every glass half empty,
I see two glasses half full,
And that's the way to live,
For every bad comment you make,
Make two good ones,
For every insult I throw at the first day of the week,
I throw two compliments at Monday,
Yes I consider Monday the first day of the week,
Monday is a bitch, (negative)
It really is,
But Monday is also a darling,
Cause it's the day I work and get success, (positive)
Monday is such a sweet heart,
Cause on Monday the hot news anchor shows up on my screen,(positive)
So glass half empty = Monday is a bitch
Glass half full = Monday shapes my future,
Glass half full = Monday is hot news anchor day,
So don't tell me to look at the glass half full alone,
Am not two,
Am a freakin' adult,
And reality fucks me up sometimes,
But since I don't want to be that guy who is always bitching,
I see two good things about every bad thing,
And there is the balanced state of mind,
And that is how I try to arrange my thoughts,
And the circumstances of my day to day events,
And you know what,
It works,
It sorts my bipolar,
It works,
Cause it rearranges my face into a smile,
And two smiles and one frown is attractive,
No one wants an ever smiling person,
It kind of makes you look stupid,
As happy as a fool,
Yet no one wants you to be forever grumpy,
It kinda wrinkles your face in not the nice way,
But then again no one wants a plastic face,
So smile twice,
And frown once,
Compliment Monday by telling her two good things about her,
Then complain about one bad thing about her,
Laugh twice,
Cry once.
There are always two glasses full,
And one glass empty.
The guy who talks about just one glass,
Which is always full,
Must be on weed.
And weed is illegal.

Dear Princess,

I wish you good luck in your Test tomorrow. I wish you didn't have to wake up at three in the morning to read for it. Somehow, I wish I could read on your behalf, and do the exam for you, like the starting of Suits Season 1. but I guess those are the movies.

Talking about movies, I think we were a movie. We started like one at least. Remember me in Mercedes and you in Range Rover at Hurlingam. Remember us at that car wash, me hangover-ed from the night before. You looked lovely, my eyes were red, I was sleepy until I saw you, I watched you and I felt awake. I stood there wishing one of us would make a move. The attendants at the petrol station wanted one of us to make a move anyways. Remember them looking at you, then looking at me, looking at you then looking at me. It was beautiful.

Baby, princess, remember when your car broke down, it started leaving a trail of smoke so big I had to use a wiper to drive following you. Remember when it went to the garage and you had to drive that old hideous car and I started driving the white car with a busted fog light. Hehe... Times became hard babes. Lol. I really loved that white car. We kissed in it outside Sarit Center, you travelled with it to Nakuru, remember what we did outside Tuskys? Epic moment baby. That's our little secret.

I remember bad news, remember the bad news we got, that crushed us to pieces. And you told me I should leave, if I wanted to, baby how could I? When you are the girl, that calls me at two in the morning to find out what am doing. You know am usually awake at that time. Who know that? Even late night facebookers don't. When we say that loving someone is knowing a lot about them, they weren't long. Look at me, I know you love food channel, I know you love fashion tv. I know you like to be very naughty as you dance, see, you didn't even know that, I know things about you that you don't even know about yourself. They say do what you are passionate about, you will do it good, you will be naturally curious about it. I do you good, I am passionate about you, and the curiosity that floats in every inch of my being about you, will never be quenched. It's five months now. I don't remember the dates when we first met, so don't be surprised when I miss to remember our anniversary date. Please synchronize our bb so that I get the dates right, okay? And probably make it a week before so that I can remember.

Bobby, that's to much. How arrogant is that. How do you ask her to put in dates in your phone? How dare you? You know what, I have her. And when o had here, everything I used to give a flying fcuk about I stopped. I look at some girls I had been with and I pyuk. No, not you, you read my blog, so it's easy. Baby, honesty, dependability, those are words about a good relationship. Not so much, impress, too much exposure, and jealousy. 

I am being arrogant not cause of anything else but cause I have her. She is mine. And she understands me, she knows I love chocolate, and this is the second percel she has sent via courier of chocolates to me. Yes, long distance can be sweet. And even is sweetest when you finally meet, and you have to draw a timetable of what to do, places to see, time to talk and time to kiss. Remember the prawns baby. I knew you were hungry, that's why you were sort of a little bitch. But come to think of it, there prawns could make anyone who just ate hungry. I think some people actually go to the loo, stick their fingers up their throat, empty their stomach just to taste the food again.

Talking about good food, baby, we walked into the shop. And I know you don't know this but am not a foreigner, it's only foreigners who buy vegetables at Nakumatt. We buy vegetables from the shop outside Nakumatt, so don't come here thinking this is the Club, where cards are swiped and bills are sent else where. I pay rent here. So groceries out of Nakumatt. 

Talking about good food, the chicken, yeah babes, I will still talk about the chicken. Oh yuck. Baby that's the worst chicken I have ever tasted. Remembering the way you sat my ass down to watch you cook and sometimes to watch Telly only in the end for you to serve such a shitty meal. I really wanted to order a pizza. No, I really. But you know, your smile is something else. It's a burst. Am yet to see your smile come slowly. It always a burst. And when it's laughter, it's also a burst. It's immediate. It's disarming. I didn't know what to tell you about the chicken, rather I didn't know how to tell you about it. So you know what I did. I kept it inside until I ate half of it. Now tell me if my eating that chicken was not true love. No come on tell me... Swimming the oceans is easier. No one expects you to smile swimming the ocean. And their is nothing as tiring as holding back emotion, nothing as tiring as holding back the words 'I love you'. Eating your chicken, that awful meal should be your most clear sign that I love you. 

But you know our love is true, and love is truth, love builds, and sometimes building requires breaking down, in the same way you break down an awful piece I write, so that I know and grow. I broke down your awful chicken. Cause if you cook like that again you might kill us both. Babes, I love you, but the ending to Romeo and Juliet isn't that cool. I love the way Juliet lay lifelessly, then Romeo, then Juliet woke up and found Romeo lying lifelessly. I prefer that I lie lifelessly, cause I have just feed you with my poison, you know the one that causes the nine months pain, sweet pain. Then you wake up, and find me dead asleep, you know how orgasms are for men. Then you drink my poison and you lie there lifeless. I have you until you are so spent you lie their all wasted and lifeless. And in that very bliss. We are Romeo and Juliet. Sorry, ladies first, and in that moment we are Juliet and Romeo.

I am proud cause you are crazy. Which girl sends his guy her journal and asks him to write on it for a few days then send it back. Babes, you did that and that just flipped the scripts. Yes the shirts were nice. With the blue the lines and the polka dots and the perfect fit, you really know my body, you have sized it up so well. Where were we, you flipped the bloody script with the journal idea. Oh yeah you did. Don't look surprised, you know who was surprised. Me. And I went through the first page and it was blank. And guys do you know what she had written on the second page? You lead baby, you are my man. In so many words. So apparently the first page was for me. I was reading it in class, during a lecture. So apparently I was supposed to contain my emotion. Oh no I did not. 

Whether or not I will write on that page, you will not know. And when I send your journal back, I will send it with such wonderful chocolate, it would be okay to raise your expectations right now, cause even as they are raised to the sky, it will still surprise you, meet your expectations then eat their dust. The chocolates I will get you, will flip the script more profoundly than the words I will put in the journal... No, wait, am a writer, and you make me feel things that my heart didn't know it could feel... I will melt you in your journal. You will want to jump in it or stick the whole book up your pussy and hope you will get pregnant.

Talking about books, babes, no one knows me like you do. I don't understand bipolar, bipolar is the bitch that flips the script in my life and not in the right way. But you love have put up such a cat fight woth her, she is afraid of you. I like plans, they keep me sane. I like being a visionary. It makes me forget the bipolar that brings me depression today. Euphoria is the cure to depression? No. No, when I am not in my element you know what my element is. Like today you called, and when I was very jolly... 'baby have you been reading...' Yes, welcome to the girl that know I love books. She knows that I crave words and everything intellect. That part of what makes me hyper, and my speech faster is a burst of ideas, or creativity, or whatever you want to call it. And sometimes the right books, the right articles awaken my euphoria and my bliss.

Let's talk about about euphoria, let's talk about bliss. When you have someone that loves you, they know you, and I know you girl. I know you like Out of Africa. I know what wine you like, it's name I forget. I know you love my attention, and you love using smiles in chat. I know you love it when I don't tuck my shirt, which I still do, cause at the rate at which you gain power over me and influence me, is totally alarming, i could lose myself to you, if I start untucking my shirt and things as those. That's why it is always absolutely ridiculous to feel distant from you, how can I run from you, when my very element o's trying not to untuck my shirt. We are one, yet different, we will never be the same though we are the same. I am yours and you are mine. You rock my world, I flip yours. You flipped bread on eggs that morning. And I appreciated how useful the whole suitcase of Cooking magazines were. It is the though that counts, but that breakfast was not chicken, you pleased my taste buds with breakfast. And not using you lips, cause that would be too easy.

Remember the party we went to. You looked nice smoking the cigar. But you looked even nicer holding my arm as I held the cigar in my mind. I felt like such a man, and it was such a party. Until the things that happened happened. I told you not to worry, I would get us home. Am glad you believed me, do you know I got a van to take us home. But I know you can't remember. But I got you home. I got as home, like man does. And I held you in my arms. Until you slept. I remember telling you, I secretly hate that guy, and you stopped talking to him. Now that's love.

It's been a while since we meet, you coming into my life has totally changed the way I look at life. You are everything I want. You flipped the script. You stole my heart. You smile at me, laugh at yourself, laugh at me, you talk to me, I kiss you. We love. You are baby. You are.

From the guy that writes you poems.
Bobby.

You are my very essence love.