Read Only If You Will Finish (sic)

 The epidemic that is blogger 'blogcks' seems to have spared a select few and I'm only saying this because I wasn't left out of the 'fun'. My brain is constipated but thanks to the inventor of shame and remorse I still come here, comment where I can, then try to compose something and while at it, look out of the window from where I admire the generous behind that was planted on the Multiplex lady and before I know it I want to display my God-given gluttony at lunch.

Well today I'm already done with lunch and the Multiplex lady has taken refuge from this melting sun under the huge umbrella from where I cant gawk at her. Doesn't mean I have my brains back yet, they must be vacationing themselves silly some where in the Caribbean sun, getting drunk on coloured cocktails and hurling obscenities at Puerto Rican babes in gomesis!

Hence this;

THE ONLY PROM RULE:

Enjoy dancing in the daylight heat, eat so little for once in your school life so as not to scare your date away, only IF you must, don't get a hard-on while dancing, and please make the most of the darkness and the walls. The walls especially: LEAVE THEM DIRTY!

UNWRITTEN RULE: Don't wipe your date's sweat with your palms...she will smell like the plate you used at lunch!! If you manage not to do that, then don't spoil all your good work by handing her her your dad's phone number if you don't have one. Posta still works and now they have express delivery so get smart.

RULE PENDING APPROVAL: Don't watch E! if you have a week left to prom. I will laugh at you and the rest of Uganda will think you hail from the north. I didn't even invent that stereotype, it is a general consensus in this country!

My brain. It cant be this bad, can it?

Let me ride on and see how far it will take this post.

I believe we guys never pay much attention to any blemish on our physicality until maybe when you are consistently teased about it. But still you smile about it before with the help of evil thinking, you tactfully turn your guns on that guy who has also been haranguing you about anything small yet he is blessed with a bean-shaped head and probably looks like he was a prop in Babylon 5. It is a mean strategy, that much I know but if you live in that world, your life is bound to get a lot messier than not if you choose not to employ evil!

So the jokes have been flowing of late about the size of these two rounded mounds of flesh that God gave me to sit with, take quinine injections and endure kiboko from teachers...what they universally call an arse these days.
See my 70s hangover mom is still obsessed with the Pepe Kale style of wearing trousers so much that it reduces her to near tears that I can’t wear trousers halfway up my chest. But you know what, I'm not going to blame almost senile her! While she grew up in an era where made-up Congolese men were idolized, I'm dreaming of ways to be as cool as Ozzie Osbourne minus the drugs.

Now to get this ancient trouser style going, you need a sizable chunk of arse which I'm not exactly blessed with and frankly don’t mind having. Actually I'm rather happy not to have, not with all these strange Kampala men offering to buy you a drink if you arent in the company of a lady while at the bar.

Its simple. You are a guy and your boxers don't slide down your arse unless tugged at, be happy. You don't want to lose the only virginity you have left.
I mean no offense to the menfolk with anthills on the backsides!
The rest of us meanwhile will be out there looking for women like her to mate with and give the future better arses where they don't have to endure taunts.

And I'm now gone. Off to bait my brains to return home before they contract a Caribbean STD!

I Still Remember That September Afternoon

This is a story about that girl who corrupted my mind…but first, it was second term holidays and I was only 8. I hated taking those mandatory afternoon naps right after lunch and despite the best efforts of the maid, which included the occasional spanking, I just wouldn’t sleep.

That afternoon was like no other because even this episode Punky Brewster on UTV this time wasn’t as interesting as it had always been. So the search of a much kick led me to my best mate Daniel’s home. Unbeknown to me, he wasn’t home; his mom had whisked him away for coaching classes somewhere in Nakivubo.

That left me and his literature-mad sister who was twice my age as my last hope for salvation from the sickening state of ultimate boredom. I should have walked away in resignation but the devil in me drove me into asking her what she was so preoccupied with so intently that she couldn’t even look into my direction.
So I went closer but before I could bet really close, she reached under the couch she was sited in and from what seemed like a collection, handed me a copy of Spice magazine (remember them?) and told me to knock myself out!

I was only 8!
The magazine cover screamed sex. I still remember that Stella was the name of the cover girl. I still remember that not only because she was hot but also because she was the first bikini I hadn’t seen on TV.
Lingala was blaring from the radio. Papa Wemba I think it was.
Curiously, I read on from the cartoons, Dod Khimji, Pam’s Adventures and yes yes, Peter ‘Now a Pastor’ Ssemattimba’s piece on erotic zones.

All this time I kept on pestering her to loosely explain the what all this raunchy stuff meant and why I was seeing it for the first time there and not in the classroom (like I had no idea).
When she justly got fed up with all the probing, she put down the Spice she was reading, grabbed me by the hand and dragged me to the back of the house under the jambula tree.
Once there, she looked around, then lifted up her dress with a mischievous smile pasted all over her face to reveal her white undies!
That was her explanation. Just like that.

I was only 8!
She then marched into the house without saying a word.
I stayed rooted to the spot, bewildered. At the same time it felt like my crowning moment, my knighthood, my Nobel Prize for achievements in human discovery and anything else in between.
I never went looking for Daniel at his ever again lest I be knighted again.
I hear she is now happily married with three daughters.
I’m betting on one of them flashing her undies intent on corrupting the mind of a boy half her age!

Yours Trully

When my brain stalled so much that I could not write a thing, I thought why not give blogville a sneak peak into what Payo looked like before shaving became such an issue. Enjoy...

Agavuude Mu Wiiki

I thought this past week had ended just like any other; nothing much to reminisce about. But that was till I pulled out my notepad and started listing in no particular order what had transpired during the past seven days. Some are shameful, some funny and others I cant really classify. Read on...

• I drunk-dialled my former boss at 2 in the night on the now infamous 99% from MTN.


• I slaughtered a turkey.


• JK admitted to me that he was gay and has 'eaten' like that for the past three years (to hell with the night caps at his pad from now on...you never know what he is capable of)


• With inspiration from Ugandan Girl, I deleted all the phantom people that were populating my friends list on Facebook.


• I resorted to a shortcut on my way home to avoid contact with Eddie the shopkeeper...the reason, 2200 shillings for that kilo of sugar I took 2 weeks ago.


• I ate a rolex for the first time in a very long time. It used to be cheap so I clashed with the 'rolex guy' over the prices. Of course I didn't win.


• My friends took me to this basement club in Mukono and guess what?!, it had pit latrines for toilets! You think I'm taking you for a ride? Visit Club One in Mukono, you will be amazed at how INNOVATIVE Ugandans have come.


• I didn't want you to know this one but yeah, I had an all-access shave! A painful one at that.

Listening to U2's 'I'll Go Crazy if I don't go Crazy Tonight'

It's So Hungry I Can Barely Feed It

Considering that I’ve not posted anything right here for exactly 45 days, I’ve gotta admit that is really long a time. I’ve got my reasons too. See I’m not exactly comfortable looking into a neighbour’s script when sitting an exam, so I took time off, shook blogging out of my unwilling head and got down to the academics for ‘shizzle’. Nevertheless after seeing this lady pull her ‘bullet’ from her bra, of all places, I took a peek or two to steer clear of a retake when I was out-spotted. Such can be the life of a student.

So that means I missed the BHH tales (of course I wasn’t there), and I hear Eizzy. k got saved! I’m only hoping she don’t try to convert me.

But then, my time away from blogging pales in comparison with my rather lengthy vacation away from the throes of dating. It has been more than a year now and what gets me worried though is how comfortable I’m becoming in the current climate. Its not till you make out with some girl (swollen with emotion too) you least expected to ever get cozy with that you realise maybe you have been cheating your body by depriving it of some things I cannot comfortably call essentials. You almost went to the next level with her! You find it even harder to say no to her advances politely. I don’t even know what they are! Cravings?

The next morning you are predictably like – “OMG What the fuck was I thinking?” but then it is already done and all you have left time for is to reflect on where in the not so immediate past might have gone wrong. You try hard to put on a gaze that conveys innocence, responsibility and authority that often than not, conceals the desperate bore that your life has become. You feel like letting loose, surrendering yourself to the force of the wind, and put up no resistance at all.

But your inner self knows that the life you once lived with some ease is now more like the unknown to you at present and that isn’t about to miraculously change overnight.

It’s really been mighty long.

“Never let your head bully your heart only because it is not worth the effort. The heart somewhat always manages to win” Dad told me that before he got saved!

Milestones Gone Wrong: The First Puff

In celebration of his first 6 months as a blogger, Payo thought of achieving another first. He regrets it now.

In ‘Ugandan English’ they are going to say that the brain behind this blog has become ‘spoilt’ only because your dearest, most previously holy Payo recently developed the insatiable urge to try a hand at smoking pot.

Payo chooses to blame the whole episode purely on curiosity and nothing more than that. He can promise that it won’t happen again. He now is truly resentful but only because it was a forgettable experience. Now he blames it squarely on the devil because deep down he knows he is such a nice guy.

Payo has considered rehab – he doesn’t think it will be of much help though. The idea of church has been floating in his head but the guilt in Payo’s mind is too much for him to handle. He can’t imagine looking at the suffering guy on the cross under these circumstances. He has already sent countless apologies to his lungs and other offended departments and since they are all willing to forgive him for the ordeal, he is kinda happy to settle for that.

The happiest part though for him is that he has something to heal the appetite of bloggers hungry for something. They deserve something to read!

Listening to Don’t Let Me Go – The Fray