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May 1: Took in a steak lunch, a second chicken lunch, a movie and a cake all in excellent company! I canna complain at all!.
May 3: Miss Tourism Kenya Finals at my Home Away From Home, Le Carnivore! Should be there with bells on!
May 5: Meat eating expedition with the boyz!
May 6: Happy birthday Chris you old cow you!

INTELLIGENCE is not as common as you think!
Fun and games at a UNIVERSITY RIOT!
There are SOME DAYS...
A KUMI KIMI Guide for the novices. A MUST read!
A POEM for someone special!
DEAREST JOHN: John Doe's better half replies with energy to issues raised by her worse half!
DEAREST JANE: A man addresses issues such as crossing rivers for his beloved...
FAVOURITE MOVIES Some notable personalities share their favourite flicks
PRESS RELEASE FROM THE AFGHANISTANI BROADCASTING CORPORATION The proprietor of Afghanistan's first TV studio shares his visions
DEDICATIONS: Music is the language of the heart -- touching messages to loved and not so loved ones

The amounts of precipitation that has descended on our hapless selves can only be said to be obscene. It has rained so much that the air itself is wet. I love the rain and all but what came down last week cannot be called rain. It was an assault. It was a rebellion. It was raining cats, dogs, felines, hounds, swine and bovines. The drops were so close together they were jostling for elbow room and loudly complaining to each other. It was indeed quite some few days! I have discovered that:

If you are on the short side I fear you will get to wherever you are going with wet socks/stockings. And considering the -- ah -- aroma of those garments belonging to most of us I fear for any passing wildlife when the footwear is shed.
It is possible to get rained on even if you are carrying with you a pair of umbrellas -- one for the rain and one for passing GK automobiles that patrol for the sole purpose of splashing water on hapless passersby.
Some of our sisters attach unnecessary importance to their hair. At the beginnings of a drizzle I beheld with my own eyes one lass screech in alarm and dash headlong across Moi Avenue, hands covering her (new?) hairdo. It was fortunate indeed for the maiden that she was unable to hear the explosion of vocabulary from the lorry driver who stood so hard on his brakes that his trailer overtook his cab.
The gent who was struck in the nether regions as he strolled along minding his own business by a lady's swinging umbrella put on a brave fight and for some minutes clung to a nearby doorway with a grayish hue on his usually very dark complexion. Unaware of the havoc she had caused the lady responsible for this tragedy sauntered on and that gentleman was not in a position to protest. He was not in a position to do anything but await the agony to abate somewhat. It was some three minutes before he could adequately express himself and it was just as well the cause of the calamity was not within earshot for he had a lot to say, little of it appropriate for the general public.
The lass whose wig was cleanly knocked off her head by an unnecessary swing of my boy Howard's umbrella retorted with energy and with spirit at once. From the drift of her colourful language we gathered that she objected strongly to having her bald head exposed. We tried to apologize for the accident but we might as well have tried to stop Kariba Dam with a Guinness bottle top Her vocabulary was impressive and comprehensive and she did not repeat herself once.
A street lighting post located immediately outside Thinker's Castle collapsed spectacularly with a racket fit to wake the dead and convince the dying it was wiser to remain alive. Of course everyone rushed out hoping it was a robbery or a car crash or something along those lines only to be disappointed by a solitary horizontal lighting post. In any case it was no loss. The last time I saw it working my age had a single digit!
My friends and colleagues met me on Monday morning with yells of merriment. This was chiefly due to the fact that I was soaked to the bone. Soaked I tell you. My shoes squelched as I walked along. My socks were wet. My trousers were wet My shirt was wet. Even my blood was wet! I could even feel water seeping through my skin. This was despite the fact that indeed I had a rather nice umbrella chosen thoughtfully for me by a lass with the typical lass' touch. Monday was the debut of what shall henceforth be know as 3D™ Rain. It comes from all 365° and one extra one for good measure. An umbrella is absolutely useless in such a scenario and the idea of sitting in a jalopy of any kind for the 3 hours necessary to commute was very sobering indeed!
Whatever survived of my little herb garden that supplies me with the odd herb for my culinary adventures after that torrent was removed in its entirety by some enthusiastic small boys as they played commando, one of whom was that little -- ah -- lad called Jamal who introduced my solar plexus to some volcanic rock. I shall hunt them down ruthlessly, mark my word! And this time the charms of sisters cannot be relied on to soothe my ire!

Got some mail from a kindred spirit that clearly had a lot of issues to raise about the club and clubbing, which prompted me to finally get round to writing some of my own:
There are some dudes who come to the dance floor with bottles of beer, which they proceed to inadvertently spill on their neighbours. Then there are some cabbages who come with glasses to the dance floor!!! Manze during the next creation don't leave until God has given out all the brains!
Then there are some daughters of their parents who throw their hands in the air, and wave them around like they just don't care without realizing that beneath their armpits is a veritable forest of hair that is unsightly and unsettling. No offence my dear but if things are really tight consider Gillette!
And then there are dudes who cause all sorts of fracas merely because someone has hugged their nearest and dearest. Dude, grow up. Grow the hell up!
Cheapskates, cheapskates! If I am feeling generous I shall buy you all the drinks and food that you want but the next time you order then push the bill to me, dude I will smack your head and pull your eyebrows! If I buy you a platter of goat today that does not mean you have earned the right to the same every time we paint the town red! And those jamaas who show up just when the nyama I have been chilling for for the past hour and exchange salutations while thoughtfully tasting my meat for me .... your days are numbered dude! NUMBERED!
Must you drink yourself silly? I always seem to take care of you when you have drunk yourself silly and believe that you are a suave, sophisticated Superman but actually are a silly, shao Superchump! Fine, I always end up taking care of drunken hulks and apologizing to umpteen ladies and gents for the actions of the drunken hulks and I must say that I have become an expert peacemaker. My PR skills are top notch, I must say!
Dancing with your significant other does not mean I am up to anything! Neither does talking to her! GROW UP!
Why I keep entertaining that hogwash of you forgetting your wallet in the car/other pocket/office/etc. I cannot explain.
And to some brothers who know themselves: you cannot dance like Usher. You cannot dance like Ginuwyne. You cannot dance like Fred Astaire. You cannot dance like me. (Modest touch introduced here) The Statue of Liberty can dance better than you! My sons, you dance like a cross between a windmill and an elephant -- arms all over the place and feet stamping on everyone's toes.
If you try to dance with a lass and yet she has repeatedly tried to leave you in no doubt that she'd rather dance with a decaying maize cob, dub -- dude, don't force. Don't force. Move on along and leave it at that!
And then there are those jamaas who are generally peace loving until they get some alcohol in them. Once this is done they imagine they are a combination of Superman, Batman, Spiderman and PacMan. They pick fights with dudes whosewrists are bigger then their own thighs and end up getting the snot beaten out of them. They then proceed to look for you to act as backup, needlessly inviting you you to an early grave. Man, grow the hey up!!!!

My boy Jamal is so black you need a torch to see the dude!

I have a constitutional right to give My own shout-outs to whoever I please!

Kenyana: Howdy doo!
Mumbi: Long time no see! I take it you're alive?
Pinky: To say that I am flattered would be an understatement!
Gathoni: I am seriously beginning to become concerned! Where on earth are ye?
Hilary: The next time God is doing his creation bit wait until the brains are given out before you split, OK?
Wanja: Where on earth have you gotten to then?
Bryan: I've read your mail and am giving it a thought.
Simiyu: I've read your mail and am also giving it some thought.
Eve: You're not that girl!
Jonah: You, sir, are a River Troll. And no doubt River Trolls all over will soon be complaining at the insult done to them.