Ah shit!
I forgot my own anniversary, ten days
ago. After spending the better part of last month reflecting, I then
completely forgot. I am not a serious blogger, am I? Wait, I am in
fact not a serious blogger, am I? Which in turn means I get to
forget important shit like my two year anniversary, no? Yes. I
forgot, so there, bite me! You had no idea it was my anniversary,
did you? You just shook your head, didn’t you? Ah well... Happy
birthday to the blog, and my most sincere apologies for letting her
big day slide. Yes, it's a big day, any time I get to celebrate
doing something slightly useful for more than two minutes is a bloody
big day. Two years of rambling? Humongous day.
That's why I fucking forgot, see?
Know it sounds funny, but I just can't
stand the pain,
Girl, I'm leaving you tomorrow,
Seems to me, girl, you know I've done all I can,
You see I begged, stole, and I borrowed,
That's why I'm easy,
I'm easy like Sunday morning...
Girl, I'm leaving you tomorrow,
Seems to me, girl, you know I've done all I can,
You see I begged, stole, and I borrowed,
That's why I'm easy,
I'm easy like Sunday morning...
I've spent the last couple of weeks
trawling through my archives, looking back, trying to figure out
where to go next. I originally set out to do a bit of spring
cleaning, dust the corners, throw out the stuff I've collected but
never use, restore some shine to old favourites, maybe even add a few
trinkets here and there, tart up the old girl a little, in
anticipation of her big day. These were my ideas, and feel free to
throw in some of your own, should you feel so led:
- I've been thinking of naming her, this lovely baby of mine, but Ian @ Doris has already made the naming thing his, and now anyone else who tries just looks like a shady imposter. So no, no name.
- Maybe a new gimmick. I should start putting pictures in, no? Better still, I should start doing picture only posts, like a real artist. Not sure I can pull off Jodo's rose story, though. Plus I can't take a picture worth a damn so...
- Perhaps video, rather than audio, best of both worlds, no? Lakini, si everyone has YouTube? Audio then, only.
- Why don’t I add a new section, to replace Dunia? Woolie is trying to rope me into his cooking schemes, but that takes more dedication than I currently possess. What do you think, should I cook for you? I can picture the look of abject fear on your faces right now, you're trying to put the sewer and a kitchen together and its scary, yes? Hmmm... I think I'll try that one, just to fuck with you. Yes, my laughter is most evil right now.
- I should try poetry. If the Wolf can rhyme, then why not me? Hang on, the 'me' at the end of rhyme doesn’t rhyme with me, does it? Dammit!
- Maybe I should try a ka-fiction story. Who knows, I might have some Ngugi tendencies lying dormant, undiscovered, after two years of non-stop rambling. No, I'm not buying that one either. But wait, what if I write porn fiction? Surely I can put together some half decent smut? I do have the source material, and I do like the sewer, and the bar is significantly lower, and now that Doc is gone (the king is dead, long live the king) there's a gap in the market, no? Hmmm... But why write it when it's so much more fun to read it on Adventures, or Tumblr? I am a firm believer in never reinventing the wheel. And I'm a lazy bugger.
- Why not write about my travels, like Flani, all travelling man with a pen like? That reminds me, I really should go somewhere one of these days...
- I should spend more time talking about women's issues, all serious and what not. Because that's just what the internet needs, another woman banging on about the girl child. No.
- I know, why don’t I just write more lists? Lists are always good. Its a scientifically proven fact that a list can never be boring. I think I should stop writing this particular list now...
For all my brilliant thinking, all I
managed to do was change a font and tweak the colour of the
soundtrack bar. I know, complete overhaul, muchos dramatic. Or not. Ideas anyone?
As with any half decent anniversary
post, which this is not, I must give thanks, stroke own ego, then
stroke yours, then make promises that I will completely ignore once
the post is up.
Ladies and gentlemen, lovers and
deviants, thank you for keeping me company for another year. Your
continued patience with me, even as I become more erratic by the
month, is most appreciated. Your visits make me smile, your
page-views make me sigh, and when you cut and paste my words, you
make me wanna cry. Haiya! I is poeting and shit! Woi... Thank you
for reading, even when I have nothing to say, bless your kind souls and eyes
(you do realise my blessings carry less weight than those of a TV
pastor? On the up side, at least I haven’t asked you for
money...yet). Thank you for your most lovely comments, they truly
make this blogging racket worthwhile. I, we, have had conversations
about love and cheating, Jesus and politics, music and books, porn
and fantasies, mkwajus and ripe bananas, Barclays and Chinese
roads... We talk, that's what we do around here, and dammit if its
not the best thing ever. Incidentally, JayK, whenever you get inspired to return, I'm still waiting for part two of something or the other. Just saying...
As for stroking my ego, there's not
much to say is there? I could tell you about my amazing stats (I
have a whopping 6 followers, one up from last year), but we all know
they are not all that amazing. I have nothing to brag about, I'm
just grateful google hasn’t shut me down yet. I would like to
praise you though, you lovelies deserve a stroke or two. The most
popular post on this blog, hands down, is SEDUCE MY MIND, PLEASE. I think that says everything that needs to be said about you, you
smart, sexy lovely people. Oddly enough, the most popular post over
the last 12 months is...wait for it...LIFE LESSONS FROM MEN IN SHORTS. Are you surprised? I am. Gobsmacked! I figured it might be an
anomaly, spammers and such like nonsense, so I looked to see the what
was number two, and it is...drums please...THIS ONE IS ABOUT POOR JUDGMENT, A HELICOPTER,SMALL CONDOMS, A CAMEL, PORN, AND A MIRACLE?
How now? Everything I thought I knew about your reading preferences is being
turned on its head right now. Turns out, you buggers aren’t only
smart and sexy, you like football (or tight shirts) and random bits
of news once in a while. It's not until you get down the list, past
ARE YOU THE ONE, FOR MS K? and ON THE DOWN LOW, past CONFESSIONS OF A (POSSIBLY DRUNK) STRANGER
and THIS DOPAMINE IS NO JOKE, MAN!, that you find a sewer tale, at number 7, SEX YOU? WHY THE HELL NOT! You sneaky buggers... You may not say it, but it shows, you don’t just read
the naughty bits, and you quite like the pseudo science bullshit. Excellent. Next time someone gives you a nasty look for reading my
blog, tell them the people here are most intelligent. Deviants, but
most intelligent deviants.
Slight detour. I've just realised I
shouldn’t have hived Dunia off. Oops. Talk about Kenyan
thinking: act first, plan later. Now I know.
Last, but hopefully not least, a
promise. I promise to keep sharing my tales of
batshit insane men with you, because you sadistic buggers love it
when I meet these strange men. I promise to keep talking about
things we don’t normally talk about, including bad sex, and maybe
good sex. I promise to keep throwing stones at the idiot politicians
and press (purely for my own benefit I realise, but at least this
way, when I get busted by Mzalendo, you get to say you were here when
the shit went down). I promise to piss you off every so often, just
because. I promise to make you laugh, even if you’re laughing at
me. And I promise to keep talking about random songs until you
finally give in and play the damn things, because I am nothing if not
persistent, no? Yes, its the same one from last year. No need to reinvent that wheel either, is
there?
Why in the world would anybody put
chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it,
Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be,
I'm not happy when I try to fake it, no,
That's why I'm easy,
I'm easy like Sunday morning...
I've paid my dues to make it,
Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be,
I'm not happy when I try to fake it, no,
That's why I'm easy,
I'm easy like Sunday morning...
'Easy' by The Commodores is my karaoke
song and I'll have you know I sing the shit out of this song (that may actually be quite
literal, unfortunately). On the surface, it seems like yet
another old song such as I like to wax lyrical about, but if you think about
it, it's a damn near perfect description of my flawed woman, and blogging, this blog
in particular. I love to sing it because I feel it, deep down; my
voice fits (kinda, let's not split hairs), and the lyrics fit, and
the song doesn’t require any fancy dance steps to pull off. Layered music with a guitar solo that's better than the vocals, the simplicity of this song belies the complexity beneath. Not unlike blogging, I think. It's easy. Did I just stroke my own ego? Why yes, I believe I did, she says, chuckling to herself.
Happy anniversary, my lovelies. Drinks
on me, if you can find me, I'll be the idiot crooning Lionel Richie in the corner, at 2 in the morning, in a dark bar, possibly alone...
