tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75065583082646457362024-03-05T05:58:17.199-08:00Blue Short PantsEver had a friend who talks about sky diving, Ice Creams, the fear of grizzly bears and his love for NOT going shopping with girls all in one conversation? Then you met me. Please don't judge me for this because if the aliens discover us, I will tell them about all you said to an innocent bully like me.
Follow me on twitter @pieMysterious(Stef) Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-32122914413897017382021-01-17T04:29:00.000-08:002021-01-17T04:29:06.926-08:00NAMIBIA DECLASSIFIES THEIR PLANS OF SENDING ASTRONAUTS TO MARS IN 2021!<p><span style="font-size: medium;">The year 2020 was such a pain in the ass, for so many
people, if not all of us. Nothing could possibly be bigger news than the fact
that a man and a Bat sent the whole earth into a frenzy. While the whole world
crumbled like wet cookies, the world’s 1% raked in dollars like backyard leaves
in autumn. The likes of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos with their two-horse race to
who the richest man on the planet was, the legendary Mike Tyson returning to
the ring in what is dubbed the greatest sporting moment in 2020, a mysterious superhero
called Pelnandes saving Manchester United, the list goes on – the point is,
there’s been so much that happened in 2020 that no one, and I mean this in lateral
terms, no one figured out that Namibia as minions as we are in the world of science
and tech, we were working day and night to send a man to MARS! </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikRNEuuo6UveYzkQGxpnGQxkzPXvT9c0oDEjIbox-HfnpIi5E_oWgXsbZRfhS4l9ePm5VGidi3oxs4pvxeCiVtMam2cF5EkqwfWT7-4ARGizVwvWkU8jLowmNVWNFGZkxlLhPTsqwKlik/s641/1LM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="641" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikRNEuuo6UveYzkQGxpnGQxkzPXvT9c0oDEjIbox-HfnpIi5E_oWgXsbZRfhS4l9ePm5VGidi3oxs4pvxeCiVtMam2cF5EkqwfWT7-4ARGizVwvWkU8jLowmNVWNFGZkxlLhPTsqwKlik/w400-h199/1LM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ONE OF THE NAMIBIAN ASTRONAUTS DURING A PREVIOUS EXPEDITION TO THE MOON</div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, you read
right, Namibia is becoming the latest inductee into the space or lunar race, and
we are sending a man to the distant planet, Mars. Needless to say, we are doing
it before Space X and Elon Musk. Most of these countries even source technology
to make these things happen, the US sourced a whole human being from South
Africa, in Elon Musk. We are doing it all on our own. It’s more like the whole
world is buying milk from Spar, meanwhile we have our own cow and we just go to
the kraal and suck its cow titties.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">While Elon Musk is working on his Starship’s landing and
flight maneuvers, we have already popped the champagne and shouted ‘CHECKMATE’
as our very own space craft , the all awesome <i>Nandjila Space Exploration and Transportation Craft (Nandjila SETC)</i>
has already proven to be capable of ticking off all boxes, passing all the
required tests. Before you ask, any videos of this spacecraft doing the test
flights is actually classified because there’s been instances in the past where
supposedly superpowers like the US, China and Russia have stolen African technology
and made it their own, then sold it back to Africa. This is one trick we will
not fall for this time, like the millennials like to say, we are woke now. Below
is a series of images taken from a distance because we are well aware of
technology spies and drones disguised as birds trying to steal our ideas. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Have you seen how thy made that trip to Okaku and came up
with Harry Potter? They even saw our friends flying on brooms and then created
the overboard, how sway! The screw-pump was first used in Africa. Most of the
medication is derived from medical practices in Africa. They came here and
introduced their version of god to us, ask yourself, didn’t we have any idea of
higher power back then? Wake up people, we need to trace our roots. Anyways,
this is one thing where they thought they were ahead but then BOOM, we are blasting
off first ya’ll!</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDPPE7oeESMCgXdEiV3T3bDxDYsMnvaVulAtIDOD-lDhY7SwDHtTMRjaiYibSzjuh-sSrCG54Ju8qggWoB0EK9Ezi6riAZWSzI0AEDxytc9wZfJ_zCbRWO_7bBos9LVgISqf5zd25gr6Q/s2048/IMG_20210110_063453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDPPE7oeESMCgXdEiV3T3bDxDYsMnvaVulAtIDOD-lDhY7SwDHtTMRjaiYibSzjuh-sSrCG54Ju8qggWoB0EK9Ezi6riAZWSzI0AEDxytc9wZfJ_zCbRWO_7bBos9LVgISqf5zd25gr6Q/w400-h376/IMG_20210110_063453.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NANDJILA SETC8 ON THE LAUNCH PAD (USED FOR PERSONELL)</td></tr></tbody></table></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnyS3jZHfjCdo5pdE0Vbr-Y4O8LVZZ-DNn5QpoHDHizo9LTP_Q7yXcoyyLaXYHkd_iTvdedTPtSuDFZokphdIVmKPwGNxNYmFk8WlSpqwCy7uqyVrlCVgn63zoeYF_Jhw6JiCNqxjMGI/s2048/IMG_20210110_061246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnyS3jZHfjCdo5pdE0Vbr-Y4O8LVZZ-DNn5QpoHDHizo9LTP_Q7yXcoyyLaXYHkd_iTvdedTPtSuDFZokphdIVmKPwGNxNYmFk8WlSpqwCy7uqyVrlCVgn63zoeYF_Jhw6JiCNqxjMGI/w300-h400/IMG_20210110_061246.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NANDJILA SETC7, USED FOR CARGO LIKE SPEAKERS AND STAGE EQUIPMENT</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Namibia currently have seven (7) SETCs already on their launch
pads, just waiting for all the astronauts to finish their inductions so we can
blast them off into space and watch them disappear beyond the clouds, like a
fart in the wind. Leading the team of Namibia’s space inductees is Astronaut
Willy-Dockyo Lawdlevel (Pictured below) who we had a chance to chat to, just
before his morning routine which includes blasting Amapiano music and making sure
that his premier league fantasy team is sorted out… in his own words and I quote,
“The good thing with this whole space issue is that there won’t be interference
once we are far far away from the earth, so the music will sound as pure as
ever.” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijaQnsbcWrddvLzIU3JAwuaJpsP7QmRiRxmpbDVrwmmitfAufGfYbGkkIxClrpJNTg-TadXNjMQvjO6aZ2ZMXkIMVF2Ty13J0Ydfm_ibq5VINngh3bp40-ucqx9UwukAiRDh9aFbo5KRQ/s1080/IMG-20210110-WA0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="864" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijaQnsbcWrddvLzIU3JAwuaJpsP7QmRiRxmpbDVrwmmitfAufGfYbGkkIxClrpJNTg-TadXNjMQvjO6aZ2ZMXkIMVF2Ty13J0Ydfm_ibq5VINngh3bp40-ucqx9UwukAiRDh9aFbo5KRQ/w320-h400/IMG-20210110-WA0030.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ASTRONAUT WILY-DOCKYO LAWDLEVEL ON HIS RETURN FROM TEACHING THE NASA TRAINEES.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">You are probably wondering like what in the mother of
science does music have to do with this? Well, many countries are planning to
take science and tech to space, to colonize distant planets and create habitats
there, but not a single soul is concerned with space entertainment, and that’s
when Namibia joins the conversation like the US when you discover oil in your
backyard. See, we are the black sheep of space exploration, the team trying to
deviate from the all-boring norm of proving black holes and a feathers falling at
the same rate as a sledgehammer in a vacuum. We want to take entertainment to
space. We are that kid in class who as the others sing the alphabet, he twerks
to the rhythm, we are the X-factor of space travel! Can you imagine things going
wrong in space and there’s no music to play while you fix the problems? That’d
be one hell of a torturous space vacation now won’t it? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Namibia’s plan to send a team to Mars is child’s play
thought compared to the bigger picture. The astronauts going to Mars are simply
going to set up a plant that will supply energy to whoever decides to settle on
mars. Where are we going to get the energy from? Well, let me introduce you to
our galactic, megalithion, mother of all plans, harvesting plasma from the Sun.
Yes, we are literally going to send a craft to the sun, harvest plasma and all
the energy infested matter, to take to Mars and bring solar energy closer to the
Martians. If the rest of the world’s plans are the avengers, our plan is
Thanos! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are already 80% done with the commissioning of the craft
that we will use, which will be remotely operated from the capital city,
Windhoek. The idea of going to the sun is ridiculed by many, saying it can’t be
done and all that… well, some of these so-called scientists are apparently so
smart that they know that going to the sun is a far-fetched idea. But they
voted Trump, what a conglomerate of irony? We will go to Mars, And then the Sun,
and after that, we will conquer the Andromeda Galaxy, send someone to Sirius,
pull Pluto into an orbit just beyond our moon, and then create a whole new
planet from space dust and call it Home. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We have reasons to celebrate and walk flamboyantly out
there, knowing that while Trump is getting impeached TWICE, while Elon Musk is
seating in talks with journalists and crash-landing his crafts, we are a few
weeks from the Martian flight!</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-49800211886143815722020-04-12T06:33:00.000-07:002020-04-12T06:42:07.789-07:00CHRONICLES OF THE DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENT<br />
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<b>AND NOW I’M BACK, LIKE I NEVER LEFT!!!</b> Okay these aren’t my
words, credit to Macklemore. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have been gone for so long that my blog picked up more
dust than the kalkrand-Hoachanas road in Southern Namibia. Or Arsenal’s trophy
cabinet. I got so many reasons as to why that happened but I do not want to be
the guy who played the excuse card. Trust me, I missed my blog too. I’ve been
gone and at some point, I missed myself too. A lot happened during the last
hundreds of days since I last posted but what everyone is talking about, the
Corona virus, jeez. It hit us like that bitch slap you didn’t see coming, from
the kid you always bullied and now he’s out to get your ass. I mean seriously,
a dude apparently ate a freaking Bat and now you can get arrested from leaving
your place, there was more toilet paper bought in the last three months that
the amount of people in the whole world. On a brighter side though, there’s been
new amazing measures put in place. For instance, we don’t have people standing
right behind us like they want to whisper the secrets of the illuminati in our
ears. I can’t believe we didn’t respect a fact we can all agree on that it is
not okay to breathe down my neck in a supermarket. My sincere condolences to everyone
who lost a loved one due to the Corona virus.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Okay back to my last couple of days that I want to share
with you. So I’ve been spending my days within my dungeon, binge watching anything
and everything on Netflix, doing my work when I have gathered enough courage,
eating like a mole and sleeping on the couch because my bed has mysteriously become
a little colder than usual. There I was, being a lazy chap and occasionally checking
for new Tik-Tok videos. Don’t judge me, at least I did not download a dating
app, I mean God knows what you will do with the people you are chatting to in
this lockdown, do you really miss or like them or are you just bored? You
attention hoe you, sies. Someone said relationships are breathing through the
wound, I could not agree more. I mean it’s one thing to be in a long distance relationship
and not see your person but to have the government tell you that you cannot
even attempt to see them or you will be locked up is another. What happened to
you cupid victims who vowed to do anything for your loved ones? This is your chance,
go out there and bash your way through the road blocks, jump over the barricades
like Super Mario. I literally cringed when I read my texts from a couple of
months ago, “I’ll do anything for you.” Now I’m here being a prisoner of my own
four walls, making a thousand mini trips between the toilet and the kitchen,
what a time to be alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So on a normal day I started to feel a little weird. You
know that feeling you get when you are about to open your University’s portal
to see your results? Or your person is typing for seven minutes after they said
“We need to talk.”? Yeah, that kind of feeling. My head spinned, my tummy
turned, my eyes felt heavy. I ignored the feeling for a few hours but it
escalated to a subtle thump, more like the sound you made as you walked through
the alleyways of your place, the last time you woke up at 03h45 to go eat the
dinner leftovers, shame on you. Me, being a strong independent black young man
sat there like, “ah, what’s the worst that could happen? My people survived 400
plus years of slavery and my generation survived a Pineapple on pizza era, what’s
a small headache? You gotta give me something big.” But apparently I was never
wrong, my head started to sound like hood Hip Hop from the 90s and my veins
popped out like the Nile river as seen from the International Space Station. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I scrambled to get myself together while I searched for
contacts to the nearest Doctor. I googled my symptom and let’s just say, never
ever google your symptoms. I made a few calls and rushed out of my dungeon and
headed off to the doctor. I do agree that it was a bad idea to drive myself
there. I arrived and the doctor welcomed me. Now, let’s pause, why on earth
would you welcome someone at the hospital? I never get that, I mean come on I
don’t even wanna be there in the first place, I don’t wanna feel like it’s a
normal place to come to at past midnight hours, and why are hospitals always so
cold? I dragged my ass in there anyways, I mean I had to, walked past the
beautiful doctor who wore her coat and the heart listener which I recently
learned that it’s actually a Stethoscope. I should mention that humanity threw
away a golden chance to call something a Heart Audience. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I sat down and scanned the place. My head spinned more than
rims on a vintage Chevy in a Snoop Dogg music video from the 90s, my eyes felt
like Jennifer Aniston, God took his time on her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I was called into the doctor room and the
doctor did doctor things, she asked me a thousand questions and wrote in some
book in front of her, she ordered me to take my shirt off so she does doctor
things on my chest. I held my breath so as not to expose my one pack, wanted my
abs to pop out but apparently I was just going to suffocate, holding your
breath to not look fat is a very very bad idea, don’t do it. I need to start taking
my fitness more serious than how black mothers act when they are summoned to
school to come listen to your naughty misbehaving ass. I was told to put my
shirt back on and I was relieved because that place was cold, I swear doctors are
doing that thing on purpose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The doctor happened to be some sort of student doctor, after
she took the medical history, listened to my heart and did all other doctor
things, she called in the master doctor. It looks like after you face the
junior doctors, you gotta face off with the master doctor. Well, the master
doctor walked in. The master doctor or whatever they call them was an old timid
lady with glasses thicker than a Buffalo from the Serengeti national park. Her
heart audience had a small flower sticker on it, I found it so cute. She gave
me one look, you know how experienced doctors just give you one look and they
already know what you need? That’s what happened to me. She said, “He needs a
pinch.” And she walked out. I was like, “A What? What on earth is a pinch??”<o:p></o:p></div>
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If there is one thing that I hate more than restaurant menus
with no photos, it’s definitely the code language used by doctors. You never
know what these people are talking about, you’ll go there to have a small wound
on your finger to be treated, and you will be there thinking you are getting
the wound dressed up in a few minutes and you hear something like, “Line up the
curtains.” Before you know it, you are walking out without your whole forearm. My
eyes literally teared up at the thought of what “a pinch” could be. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
thought of my whole life, I lived all my life trying to be a law abiding
citizen, being an advocate of aliens, a wine ambassador and a self-proclaimed tripled
A-rated Chef and my life had to come to a point where I was faced with the fate
of “Apinch”? I thought I was gonna meet the coffin carrying dudes.</span><br />
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She told me to put my shirt back on, and I did. <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">What transpired in the next couple of minutes was a
bittersweet feeling, I realized that a pinch was not going to have me walking
out of the hospital without my limb or my kidney, it was an injection. What a
fucking piece of beautiful painful news. I love to stay alive, but I hate
needles with all my nerves. I will admit that my fear of needles and injections
sky rockets higher than the edge of the universe. My whole body went numb, I
could feel my veins hide between my muscles, my heart sank to the bottom of my thorax
cavity and my forehead perspired, an ironic feeling given that my mouth was
dryer than the Namib Desert. Why the hell do I have to get a pinch? And I think
doctors know that I fear needles because each one always use a new term that I
didn’t hear of before. My last encounter, the doctor told the nurse that I apparently
needed a shot, okay that was predictable but a pinch? Wow. So I gave the junior
doctor a look. You know the look? I bet you do, she didn’t even seem to notice,
she pulled out a tray with some syringes and at that moment, I could hear my
ancestors shout, “Iyaaaaaaaaa!!!!” </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She
prepared the syringe, more like a sniper assembling and mounting her gun up, so
she can take the enemy out, send him into oblivion.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I rolled my sleeve up but she said, “No, please pull your
pants down.” Time literally froze. I was shocked, pants down? Wow, you can’t
inject me through my pocket or something? I thought of all the times that I
could have boosted my immune system with herbalife products, always thought
those herbalife people were harassing me. I thought of telling her, “Let’s not
go that route, I will drink enough juice for vitamin C.” but my courage could
not let me. I was sold, defeated, dropped into the deep like I’m hot. You are
probably thinking that oh this dude hates needles this much? Well, there was something
else. See, after I bath, I usually don’t apply lotion on my butt, back or legs
especially if I’m wearing long pants, and this was one of those cases where I
hadn’t applied lotion on my butt. So, I knew that my ass was all ashy and
crackled like that time it didn’t rain for 2 years in Namibia. My skin was so
dry you could pour water on it and it would disappear just to moisten the skin.
I reluctantly unbuckled my belt and rolled that zip down, I turned around and I
swear I shed a nigga tear thinking of what the poor junior doctor was about to
see, so early in her career, shame. I dropped those jeans down like a skrr skrr
nigga dropping a mix tape mumbling like a feeding Hippo, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and I heard her say “Damn.”, the small room
filled with a bit of dust and I feared for her life, I knew we both needed
doctors at that moment because there was no way in hell she was going to
survive seeing such an ashy butt like that. She let out a cough, I mean who
wouldn’t? After all that dust engulfing the place like you are looking at a
cement factory. She gathered her courage, I think, and went on to inject my
nigga butt. I clenched my jaws as “the pinch” gave me a taste of its own
medicine. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Guys, I know how we always tend to disagree on so many
things because opinions, differences and all that, but I will ask of you this
one favor, let’s agree on one thing. You can pour milk in the bowl before the
cereal, you can add pineapple on Pizza, you can talk bad about avocado, you can
even say Drake is better than Tupac, it will all be forgiven one way or the other,
we will probably agree to disagree. What you will not do is turn up at the hospital
with an ashy ass cause you don’t wanna hear “crklcrklcrkl” as the doctor rubs
your butt cheek to deliver that pinch. It hurts your ears and her eyesight, you
are bad for humanity! You should be locked up. You need to pay dust tax!! I
hope she’s fine, that she is recovering from what she just saw. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyways, I woke up a few hours later and I felt so high, not
to sound cliché but whatever they gave me was one hell of a shot, and
rightfully so, I woke up soaring with the eagles, enjoying a bird view of the
city. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I am recovering well, thanks to everyone who wished me a
speedy recovery. And once again, BLUE SHORT PANTS IS BACK MF!!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-38183178586931054322018-05-10T03:15:00.000-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.496-07:00Catch me if you can! Allow me, to apologize for the long extended holiday off the blog, mans was busy but he decided to tell ya'll one of his most sentimental stories and that's what's important.<br />
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I missed ya'll too, it's been a while... I mean, Mugabe had since then been taken out of the chair he sat for so long, Zuma surprisingly got dethroned too from the iron throne, Arsene Wenger out of all possible managers to leave their teams, he is leaving at the end of the season!! To be honest the only person who seem to stay longer than we all expected is Donald Trump. I mean, that mas said all the wrong things a president could say and stay in office or not have nukes flying all up in Washington DC, Trump has been the most un-presidential president and believe it or not, he is still in office. The only good thing Trump did when he went in that office was prove to us how much he shouldn't have become a president. Enough politics.<br />
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Now this is one of those stories that I never thought I'd live to tell... or at least not from behind bars, literally. See, I thought I'd either be dead, in heaven sipping on fine juice cause I was a minor back then, or in hell, trying to lick my wounds with my flaming tongue looking like a sad marshmallow being grilled on Lucifer fires. It never occurred to me that I could outrun a whole mob trying to catch my silly ass. </div>
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See, I had Pigeons when I was about 12/13 years. I looked at myself as a future bird farmer, doing bird things like really being a bird whisperer, cross breeding chickens with ducks to make something like a Kiwi bird. I had major dreams, and I was pretty much determined to achieve them... until one of my pigeons went missing. Just like that, I wake up and poof, it is gone. My favorite then, a grey male with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot. i was not going to get hurt if he was not the Pigeon-men of the house, he was the one making the other pigeons make smaller pigeons, if you know I mean, even if this one was practicing polygamy and stuff, he was still helping me achieve my bird farming purpose, to expand. He was literally living in the same place with his wife and his side pigeon.<br />
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I was sad, I was devastated, my farming dream was crushing right before my eyes. The female pigeons were looking at me with teary eyes, looking for answers in their pigeon voices but I did not know what to to tell them. I was heartbroken, why did it have to be my Grey male with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot?? But I was not going to stay there and beat myself up, I needed to find him. So I decided to casually visit all y friends who also had pigeons, none of them had him. Weekend past, we back to school. Now, the school's grade 9 life sciences required students to farm with animals and our school had Pigeons. I had passed by that place a lot of times and I swear I have never seen a grey male with a lazy eye in that place, never. So that day, I creeped up closer. I was nervous, heart beating and skin self moisturizing with sweat... I looked at each one of them close from outside the fence and BOOM, there was a grey male with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot. I know my eyes could have been playing tricks on me but... grey like mine? lazy eye like mine? CRIPPLED PIGEON FOOT LIKE MIIINNNEEE???? Fam I know pigeons can look alike but that one, that was my pigeon and I was not going to believe otherwise.<br />
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So I went to class, pulled my best friend out and told him that we are breaking out my pigeon. He was like dude are you crazy? The school has a security guard and there's afternoon students later. I calmed him down.</div>
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Him: How are you going to break in and not get noticed?</div>
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Me: *silence* We will not break in. </div>
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Him: Exactly, damn. You wanna put yourself in trouble. </div>
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Me: I mean we will not break in but we are not going home without my pigeon today. </div>
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Him: How do you plan to do that?</div>
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Me: We will be the ones to feed them today after school.<br />
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Fam, we were busy at work planning how to break out my grey pigeon with a lazy eye and a crippled foot.<br />
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Now, at that moment, I felt like the real captain Jacksparrow, I went up to the teachers holding the food and told him I need a couple of bags cause I will feed them pigeons after class. So we stay long after school and when it was quiet, we went in, we fed them and my friend quickly caught my grey pigeon with a lazy eye and a crippled pigeon foot. We got out, I locked up and we decided to head for the gate... half way there, now mind you we didn't have anywhere to put this pigeon and my friend was walking behind me, I didn't know he was holding the pigeon in his hands, like dude why you holding something we just "stole" in your hands??? Out of nowhere, some silly ass kid spotted the pigeon in my friend's hands and shouted 'THEY ARE STEAALLING THE PIGGEEEOOONNNSSSS CATCH THEEEEEMMM" it was almost like we were now in the spotlight 😞😞😞<br />
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Big mistake, not from me, ha a. from my friend and also from the kid who just sounded the alarm, I was always a step ahead, no lie. So I turned, told him to hand me the pigeon and we run, when he was handing it over, thing just flew away. Damn, now everyone has seen the pigeon flying away from MY hands so everyone was probably out to catch me. I was not going to have it, so we bolted. I ran so fast that I don't even know how I skipped past everyone trying to catch me, I wore rather heavy shoes that would not allow anyone to sprint but I guess the adrenaline just really fired up in my system and I went from a Sloth to a Rabbit real quick. Fam, I believe I was running faster than Bolt ever did...<br />
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I could hear my friend shouting from the back, "wait for me bruh" Oh nah nigga this was not part of our agreement!! As a matter of facts, that energy used to shout could have taken him 3 steps forward. There was no time to shout and cry, we needed to run and homeboy seemed to have missed the memo.</div>
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I ran so fast that I did not even look behind to see exactly how many people were after me. I remember that my friend was caught, but me, nah fam I was doing a Mo Farah for days, I was skipping those short bushes like a Deer, ignoring the pain in my legs, I was not slowing down. I reached home in a matter of minutes, sweating and panting like a dog. Looking so traumatized, not cause I almost got caught but cause not even I could believe I could run that fast. So there i was, in the "safety" of my mother's vicinity, just to hear voices after a couple of minutes and IT'S 3 WOMEN FROM THE SCHOOL'S OPEN MARKET PLACE!!! I knew then it was going to be a long day, so what do i do? What a man's got to do fam, I ran out of the house as fast as I could, I headed for a lake close to our house and my plan was, if they come, I'll swim... I mean what would 50 year old's do, fish me out like a seal? No ways. I watched them go in the house and leave after some minutes. When I got back, I could tell that mum was seething to whip the black out of me, you know black mother's will whip your ass so bad you'll want some your friends to come get that whipping also so they believe you when you say your mum has legendary whipping technique? So I broke silence first and explained to her, she listened but did not side with me. That was fine with me, as long as she was not going to swing that belt on my little tired self, then we good. </div>
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Fast forward, it was Tuesday morning and we had to go back to school. I get there and see the same 3 women standing there with the teachers at our morning devotions, like fam why you gotta be so hooked up in catching us, they aren't even your pigeons meme why are you so concerned?? But they were just being black responsible mothers you know. Mum told me that if it's really my Pigeon, i must just go explain but if it's not, she will cash me ouussiiiddeee. Now, I was not going to be whipped, never. i was also not going to just give up my pigeon like that, I knew that was my pigeon! So because I'm a bad b*tch, I went to the office of the dude we got grains from the previous day, told him what happened and while I'm talking, the three Pigeon Police Women came there too, one of them pointed at me like "There he is!!!", I was clam like, ladies, I already explained to the teacher here what happened, and HE said, we will go to that place and if that pigeon went back and is mine, I am taking it with home, today. You know, I had the support of the teacher, even when he was mad that I didn't tell him "my" pigeon was there.</div>
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So we go, all gathered there like civilized people, almost like 3 of them didn't try to catch me the day before and like I didn't just break Usain Bolt's records trying to save my ass. I told them, "My pigeon is male, grey with a lazy eye and a clubfoot" So we all look inside like yeah where is he where is he, damn they couldn't wait to catch me out so they get me whipped for lying. So I calmly told them, "he must be with the ones outside, cause he flew away remember?" So the teacher called for some grains, released all of them and fed them outside, and THERE HE WAS, THE MAJESTIC GREY MALE WITH A LAZY EYE AND A CLUBFOOT!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_H4SdnWWBbzcpj5UECYkJTcSJJkjbXjTZoelzRqIJcBu4AsxWeTDLUVOY5quD8l7Fmw9mVGjouVQ7bJEUVXdRGezPeqUxvREP219fJ9bJQjAxA1JZ1fACN7dzQw_n-qDWnbY39caBy4/s1600/found.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="1145" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_H4SdnWWBbzcpj5UECYkJTcSJJkjbXjTZoelzRqIJcBu4AsxWeTDLUVOY5quD8l7Fmw9mVGjouVQ7bJEUVXdRGezPeqUxvREP219fJ9bJQjAxA1JZ1fACN7dzQw_n-qDWnbY39caBy4/s640/found.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The 3 women, they just stood there like the three blind mice. Not even apologizing to the boy for think he is lying af. The Pigeons were guided back to their enclosure and I was told to get my grey pigeon with a lazy eye after school. Meanwhile, my best friend mboli received some ass whooping the previous day, all in the name of helping me rescue my pigeon, if that's not what friends are for then at least I still discovered then that i was a potential 100m sprinter, marathon champion, I had the steps of Bryan Habana and my pigeon farming dream was alive. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Even if that dream died months later when I went home and I was told my pigeons died. I still think someone ate them up. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Folks, if you lose something, just follow the channels to look for and get it back, don't be like young Stef, some ya'll can't even run, you'll be caught and your ass whooped. </div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-9947016936510259072018-05-10T01:32:00.001-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.925-07:00To whom, if not to you?<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It's been long, it's been weeks.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Nights have been cold, and mornings, blue.</b></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I decided to write a piece,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>To whom, if not to you? </b></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It still feels new...</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Calm, like a river, yet so loud like a storm.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It was my thoughts alone.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>My dreams, my hopes.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Then you happened. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Your warm smile...</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The cold crisp feeling of the first kiss.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>We had walked... so many miles.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>A journey so much worth the bliss.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Felt like the end. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The start of a new reality.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It still feels new...</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The beginning of many beautiful stories.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It was.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It will always be.</b></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-37652403758159306052017-08-23T03:56:00.002-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.475-07:00HOW I GOT DUMPED AFTER 1 DAY. <div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me tell ya'll a story on how I “cyber dated” someone and she broke up with the day we
met.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I’m a 16 year old nerd, battered by puberty and horny
like a little bull living in isolation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I only have a sim card but I use it in mum’s phone to hit up
girls, I don’t even know how I got numbers smh. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was such a charming little brat, using words like “on
contrary”, smooth talking a girl I have never seen in my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaShVXJt-zbnOZoQCQgTEMdhk-UIMVlBBjapQ0hk-3uiyshzhL9kKNQS0VRQ3B1MxFLjhuYnsjyQa5zCLs67QWRqhOlCVqsv4iShjooUFe6oSQrhj1u1d6HUTXKkmfjeO-6e1uidQL2A/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="478" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaShVXJt-zbnOZoQCQgTEMdhk-UIMVlBBjapQ0hk-3uiyshzhL9kKNQS0VRQ3B1MxFLjhuYnsjyQa5zCLs67QWRqhOlCVqsv4iShjooUFe6oSQrhj1u1d6HUTXKkmfjeO-6e1uidQL2A/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
She was feeling the homie, often texting like, “I am bored,
tel me sunthin nyc nee"?” That shit was major back then. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvpS8riP3Q4zNcyNLJ7RfMX4PPYp_NtIb4oYZ07q3-wrwsqBid7c4mig4KCOe575X0IHcO_lVT72QZVr8zqU0KicFMTB8wS-0LmAKPKBcY9hIQuesV0mns2ASE-zrpBICKkuAWrvr5q4/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="271" data-original-width="543" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvpS8riP3Q4zNcyNLJ7RfMX4PPYp_NtIb4oYZ07q3-wrwsqBid7c4mig4KCOe575X0IHcO_lVT72QZVr8zqU0KicFMTB8wS-0LmAKPKBcY9hIQuesV0mns2ASE-zrpBICKkuAWrvr5q4/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0019.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I legit asked this girl out and she said “I will think about
it” I knew I took that shot and damn sure hit the target clean. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Must’ve been words
like “actually” and "flabbergasted", instead of just being a normal person and using the word surprised. I was slick, and puberty had my hormones blinding my focus. I was feeling like hell yeah I'm a young adult... </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirk-iqB7hex8XbWftRyapWS2ZFpgKfOQ_kcDP3OkKy5lNSyyyPP8Cmaap-pECPdl2bKlMg_4LAXfaCCDpgHa44ltPdf8x8Ct81PHV7W1vMjprxX4VjbgLdbffGNgVj26UGErRk3ygKO5o/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="596" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirk-iqB7hex8XbWftRyapWS2ZFpgKfOQ_kcDP3OkKy5lNSyyyPP8Cmaap-pECPdl2bKlMg_4LAXfaCCDpgHa44ltPdf8x8Ct81PHV7W1vMjprxX4VjbgLdbffGNgVj26UGErRk3ygKO5o/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0017.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Three/four days later she hits me up with “good morning my
sweety love” </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhIOAvlQobbQnr7XsMV8aL7lHZs8NcwKnylukfUsWMPtLD_zLmGYaLDQqbKcoxsCHZQ6jG_dgB7Vb516lsuHizIscwzmv8EZzIdAczLc3OQwwl31hJlJKl7fyMjxFmaoJrYnXa9_ELHg/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="644" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhIOAvlQobbQnr7XsMV8aL7lHZs8NcwKnylukfUsWMPtLD_zLmGYaLDQqbKcoxsCHZQ6jG_dgB7Vb516lsuHizIscwzmv8EZzIdAczLc3OQwwl31hJlJKl7fyMjxFmaoJrYnXa9_ELHg/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0030.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fam, "Sweety love", Jackpot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m like, “good morning my tika masala’, okay jokes, I
didn’t say exactly that, but damn I was being romantically careful with the words. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I flirted my way into a relationship and all I knew was her nickname and her cellphone number, ancestors probably whispered ‘men are
trash, look at this one losing to puberty’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIcJtEhgOOenEvVo6M-RF1G9PvYpQg6H0v_7FMG5I6nH4pjv7xjMeV1a1zbqwZKEpXu2sP5JO2L5nZR2b25Dbh-xR57SjTTDNxg-F1wA4YJQ-l1iloThPFe_Wju_EVej8qNgAsonrcfs/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="512" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIcJtEhgOOenEvVo6M-RF1G9PvYpQg6H0v_7FMG5I6nH4pjv7xjMeV1a1zbqwZKEpXu2sP5JO2L5nZR2b25Dbh-xR57SjTTDNxg-F1wA4YJQ-l1iloThPFe_Wju_EVej8qNgAsonrcfs/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0028.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward, the day came when we had to meet, its school
holidays and she’s home too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up very early that day, gotta meet the bae. I was in tip top shape and form!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But before I left the house, first things first, I had to quickly take a bath, those ones where you only concentrate on the visible parts like the face, arm and legs. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkH9ZZ3N8AAGkpe6W7SA6-0kS5JCiEKiIQ_1X6Z4hQYJhyphenhyphenMrU4bGsMbEwc81klQaOT93K9CaiNP0-wHr86lnL2qJzhoZ75bhPfwRDCNTz5QFjzmdHucoi84KMs764mxvavQdxmvo1Yazk/s1600/IMG_20170823_113018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="638" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkH9ZZ3N8AAGkpe6W7SA6-0kS5JCiEKiIQ_1X6Z4hQYJhyphenhyphenMrU4bGsMbEwc81klQaOT93K9CaiNP0-wHr86lnL2qJzhoZ75bhPfwRDCNTz5QFjzmdHucoi84KMs764mxvavQdxmvo1Yazk/s400/IMG_20170823_113018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So then I went to meet her at Game shopping centre, called her, saw this girl answering
the phone but I was still like, “are you the one wearing a white top”? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7PMMP7S9P8x8dOLFwuhra5x5UCeJoxBPT7z7NBtShzxTuNjhjjKJLljmdDyEk8csBUfiRMJGsRFakQkB9h0v1kcZiPWn0-Z6QcKPIui9Uw_xen1ZQ42yPyVah8B4rRuAeQjcq4Thm7o/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="640" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7PMMP7S9P8x8dOLFwuhra5x5UCeJoxBPT7z7NBtShzxTuNjhjjKJLljmdDyEk8csBUfiRMJGsRFakQkB9h0v1kcZiPWn0-Z6QcKPIui9Uw_xen1ZQ42yPyVah8B4rRuAeQjcq4Thm7o/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She looked so beautiful damn yes girl gimme that Omungwelume smile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlOvHyKGmI4whJPh6QLmU8JevYvwtlcThR1Ya8WLiqbMGVODeWWikeuHlQJK_EuLFKxb2-8QBuOH2POq47LDAQoNO81UO3o8uOMfA-D2HAFm48rE4ETfIXy7YfbBq7UNkA-aDON8NKYo/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="799" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlOvHyKGmI4whJPh6QLmU8JevYvwtlcThR1Ya8WLiqbMGVODeWWikeuHlQJK_EuLFKxb2-8QBuOH2POq47LDAQoNO81UO3o8uOMfA-D2HAFm48rE4ETfIXy7YfbBq7UNkA-aDON8NKYo/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0016.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
“look the side of the service”, she did, saw me and stood
up. SHE WAS SOOO TALL <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was like damn no girl wait a minute what????</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRmUtDbXCnCg6SHXUPwk1E5LWUTDCFt0yhSmVUGgOxFOYyjqaMi-krGTkeSkS7K8p9GvyH9TaZvFrHJalXTd-rHq_9SOyPhwrH6NxvhZKY0HDQcY_QEsyXGXPQrmHbCJkPjKQzHg3T5c/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="680" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRmUtDbXCnCg6SHXUPwk1E5LWUTDCFt0yhSmVUGgOxFOYyjqaMi-krGTkeSkS7K8p9GvyH9TaZvFrHJalXTd-rHq_9SOyPhwrH6NxvhZKY0HDQcY_QEsyXGXPQrmHbCJkPjKQzHg3T5c/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
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I swear I could wear mum’s heels she’d still be taller than
me. I was so mad, sweating and confused, like what do I do now. She already suffered that rough ride from Omungwelume to Oshakati, it was that time when that road was still gravel. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, "MAN IS MAN BABY!!!! Its all gonna be alright", so I told myself. I knew that our match was not made in heaven per say but it was made juuuust a little outside, but that was okay. We went home, she was holding my hand and because I'm way shorter than her and chubby, it looked like Peter Crouch was in town pulling a suitcase. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We got home and before I even sat down, i reactivated my romanticness again,,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"You want water or... Oros?" </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not even 2 seconds elapsed after I asked her, she said, "Oros... I want Oros"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was disappointed, I was hoping she will say water because the Oros was almost finished and the one that was left was only for family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But anyways, I served her one glass. the ratio of water to Oros was perfect, that's my talent, blending Oros. Also, i had to make a good first impression, knowing how to make the best Oros increases your chances of getting a partner with 45%. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I quickly left her to go to the bathroom, I did not want to pee or do the number 2, I just wanted to avoid those award moments, I had to go and think of the perfect thing to talk about with her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And this is when things really went south, like, things really went terribly wrong. When I came back from the bathroom, this girl had the Oros glass in her hand and... it looked just waaaaayyyy too bright than when I left it, and this glass was almost full to the brim. That's when I noticed, that THIS GIRL MADE HERSELF ANOTHER GLASS OF OROS!!!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did you a favor, risked my life to make you a tasty glass of Oros when even us who are from the house, we only add a little Oros to tap water, JUST TO ADD SOME COLOR!!!! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
NOW YOU MADE YOURSELF ANOTHER FULL GLASS GIRL WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!!! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYYVVqrx6rMgM323EMrRjU33d7PvH1RTNhvVO2BJFphqINV3VT0xX4vwtb4lcIYH3PtbBBo5pTAQ7vufGL_9juO-6t0xh1xhqRI5IzhhHEG5i0z61L0vPCeTBf59NwTMBiiNb1nxfSvA/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="720" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYYVVqrx6rMgM323EMrRjU33d7PvH1RTNhvVO2BJFphqINV3VT0xX4vwtb4lcIYH3PtbBBo5pTAQ7vufGL_9juO-6t0xh1xhqRI5IzhhHEG5i0z61L0vPCeTBf59NwTMBiiNb1nxfSvA/s400/IMG-20170717-WA0012.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I was so mad I could not even concentrate anymore, then she hit me with "Now you are angry nee for Oorosa?" In a deep kwanyama accent.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
YEAH I AM ANGRY DO YOU KNOW THE KIND OF BEATING I WILL RECEIVE CAUSE I SERVED SOME GIRL OROS THAT WAS MEANT FOR KIDS?????? YOU JUST RUINED MY WHOLE LIFE!!!!! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivoGCzEd1IojTWStKTzjJZyxDJB80EbXzPxOAg0F070NwsM0aNGayK1W3k0V5uIM90xlPFYVi69Xqv97vKhkNmWaivlx2braM-e4POsGQLnXkthfBhkoZL62JVuTIhcxSoU_aJisI1z8/s1600/IMG-20170717-WA0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivoGCzEd1IojTWStKTzjJZyxDJB80EbXzPxOAg0F070NwsM0aNGayK1W3k0V5uIM90xlPFYVi69Xqv97vKhkNmWaivlx2braM-e4POsGQLnXkthfBhkoZL62JVuTIhcxSoU_aJisI1z8/s320/IMG-20170717-WA0010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was like, GET UP!!! </div>
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Get up, let me escort you to the buses so you go home, i can't do this. You came here for the first time and the first thing you do is DRINK ALL OUR OROS!!! </div>
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So I escorted her, she took the bus. i went home to google excuses that i needed to have before anyone asked me what happened to the last Oros. </div>
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That seeing, she broke up with me, and I have never been so relieved, because there's no way we can date if you get too comfortable on your first date that you actually make yourself a cup of Oros. </div>
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A big shout out to my buddy from Omungwelume, Shawty B, my brother from another mother, the deep kwanyama Jackson Mandume, I've got mad love for ya'll buddies who keep up with Blue Short Pants, big ups.</div>
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By the way, now I offer my girl wine. :) </div>
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Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-49305000482829162262017-07-12T04:39:00.000-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.624-07:00How my dreads almost ruined my life. <div class="MsoNormal">
Hi guys, I have been gone for a very long time! But I am back, and I am alive, if I wasn't then I wouldn't be back, because, I mean... that's science right? </div>
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Sooo let me tell ya’ll a story of how I almost became homeless. <o:p></o:p></div>
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*gets in position*</div>
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No, not living on the streets or under a bridge, no. I was
at the village by then so we are talking about living in the tree tops feeding
off raw eggs for birds and fruits, that stone age lifestyle with nothing but
leaves for clothes and long ass hair looking like a badass nomad. That would
have been very odd in a civilized community, but not as odd as the dreads that I
had on my head, the ones that were solely responsible for my own mother almost
kicking my silly ass self out of the only place I’ve ever called home. <o:p></o:p></div>
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See, I was an average youngster trying out every little
thing that I perceived “cool” by then, little did I know that every “let me try
this” was a shovel digging up enough earth to open up a little grave for me.
Like every time I tried something knew, I was whispering to my guardian angel
to cut me some slack and not stop me from doing stuff. My guardian angel kindly
allowed me to “explore” and that folks… that was one terrible mistake. I
decided to grow my hair and… <b>*moment of
silence to what the brother went through*</b>, and that was enough for mum to
decide that enough was enough!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Growing my hair was already starting to annoy mum, but
getting dreads, that was the cherry on this unwelcome cake at home, in the
vicinity of an African mother’s territory, that was treason! The first day I came
from town with my head looking like a !Nara plant with little dreads sticking
out like germinating grass, mum gave me one look… one lookd and I knew I was in
trouble, not for that moment only, for the next few days. I was in more trouble
than I have ever been in my whole life, at that moment, not even making a wish
over a shooting star or keeping my fingers crossed was going to save me the
exposure to mum’s classified disciplinary and record straightening actions. Mind
you, my guardian angel allowed me to walk into that mess so rest assured she
was just going to sit back and let me go through it all. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Mum started off by asking me, “Who do you buy from?” I’m
like what? What is she talking about, “drugs… who do you buy your drugs from?”
the average conclusion in an African home when you get dreads is that you are definitely
doing drugs. Before I even answered her that I AM NOT DOING ANY DRUGS,
obviously the capital letters do not mean I was about to shout at her because
shouting at your mother in an African home is bigger than going to war with American
navy seals… before I answered her, she told me that I need to look for a new
home. How?? This is the only place I have ever known to be home, am I supposed
to go to radio stations and request any Good Samaritan willing to take in a boy
with dreads or what? Imagine me on Radiowave, “hi guys this is Stef, I need a
new home, I have dreads”<o:p></o:p></div>
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So while I was trying to reason with her, I called her “Mum”,
because she is my mother. She replied with, “I did not give birth to a gangster
or mafia member”, okay at this point I was starting to realize that if my
guardian angel doesn’t step in, mum was probably even going to take away my
middle name and probably even take away her looks from my face! I needed a new
home, I needed a new mother! So getting dreads had me thinking that perhaps I was
adopted from a family in Jamaica and my Jamaican vibes were starting to come
out, I mean I was already very fast which I saw every time someone tried to whip
me at home, so I could be related to Usain Bolt. Just saying. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I decided that I am not cutting my dreads just because mum isn’t
comfortable with them. I don’t know what happened but what she did was looking
like she just stepped up to stage 2! She told the kids to serve me food in one
plate and one cup every time, that’s like being in prison or having a deadly
infectious flu that is very contagious so you need to be in constant isolation
from the human race. I was being isolated, if I don’t move out and get a new
home and a new mother. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was not about to break either, she wants to go to stage 2?
I am going to stage 2 also, I decided to get my small sisters to “retouch” my
dreads, that’s basically making them look all good and neat again. WORST
MISTAKE, apparently her kids are not going to touch some dirty dreads at all.
Not even if they wore gloves I assumed. I was in a chokehold guys, I was
fighting a battle I wasn’t destined to win. It was written, “thou shall not
win!!”, Like Liverpool’s fate with the EPL lately. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I could not even cough or sneeze without mum saying, “It’s
those stupid dreads in your head.” My dreads were getting blamed for every little
thing happening in the family. Kids come home from school and say that one of
their classmates dropped out because she got pregnant, “it’s those things of
people even getting dreads”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My uncle who is a deacon in the Catholic Church was even
called to interfere because the second conclusion of what has happened to me if
not drugs was that I am possessed by demons. I knew that I was not going to win
this, not at all. So before mum went to stage 3 which was probably to call the
police to search my room for drugs or concealed bodies, I decided to throw in a
towel and get a fresh fade. I tell you what, the day I went back home with a
fresh fade, mum was all of a sudden the normal loving beauty, calling me her
handsome son and all that, thinking I forgot that she had me hoping some family
will come claim me or that I need to start living with the goats at the kraal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyways, mum just needed to make sure her son isn’t
branching off to the world of drugs (despite the connection to dreads just
being a stereotype), I applaud her for the love she’s got for me and glad to
say that I have no regrets, only love for every way she brought me up.</div>
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By the way, I may be needing a new family soon because I am
not cutting this hair!! <o:p></o:p></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-41992272428770570502017-03-20T07:02:00.002-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.541-07:00My friend didn't tell me that he's a father now. I'm angry. <div class="MsoNormal">
So I’m all up in my WhatsApp contacts, checking out what my
friends are up to, since we’ve got this awesome Snap-like feature. Everybody is
posting their lunch and I’m just scrolling fast like, “oh nah I am so hungry I
don’t wanna see food!!” Then I noticed something that caught my attention,
someone posted two little cute feet of a newborn baby. I know they were of a newborn
baby cause they are so wrinkly and small, the size of full grown thumbs. So I
check the caption and this dude is the father of this baby. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Recap, this guy is my childhood friend, we grew up together,
we use to fight as opponents or fight boys from other villages, so we have that
childhood bond and this friendship cannot be broken unless one of us decides to
put it in writing, you’ve got to officially resign from the friendship, you
don’t just leave!! <o:p></o:p></div>
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So I decided to ask him, “Are you a father?” His reply
really stunned me, I don’t even know why I did not just call the police because
his answer was so abusive. <o:p></o:p>At that point in time, I'm just praying in my heart like, "Lord, please grant me the serenity I need."</div>
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He said, <b>"Of two, yes.”</b> Dude you crazy? So you got yourself
a girlfriend, a baby and ANOTHER BABY and I couldn’t get any update? I was so
mad I decided to tell him what’s up, I told him that what he did is so bad and
unfair cause now when I get my own baby, he won’t have anyone to play with cause his babies will be all grown, big ass men passed puberty and sh*t like that.<br />
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Now I need to make one baby, and quickly make another one so that my baby can
have a baby of his size to play with. You
know how it feels when you are a baby and don’t have any baby of your size to
play with? It’s like being in a foreign country and you can’t even ask for
water!! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve made peace with it, my baby won’t need my friend’s
babies to play with because I will just visit the SPCA and get a puppy for my baby
to play with. Now I need to visit his baby mamma and tell those babies who I am
since the parents didn’t do so. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ll be like, “yo listen up kids, when I was 11 years old, I
kicked your daddy’s ass and he bit my back”. I don’t really know why I will be
telling them that but I just feel like they need to know. By the way, be a good Dad ma nigga!! I’m really proud of who you’ve become. And ps, I forgave you for biting my back when
I kicked your ass back in the days. <o:p></o:p><br />
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I'm really fine no though, will even see the babies soon. </div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-59401590451792713032017-02-03T04:38:00.001-08:002018-10-22T03:54:45.708-07:00Do NOT share your secrets with these five people!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Who isn’t scared that their
darkest secrets will bubble out for the whole world to feed on? Well, certainly
not me, I am scared as an injured gazelle in the Serengeti! My biggest fear is
that someone will betray me, someone will share my most personal secrets with
some stranger out there and while you are out there thinking no one knows about
you, the whole world has your life zoomed in on high definition. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Don’t get me wrong, I am not
scared of people knowing WHO I am, nah… I am scared of people knowing what I don’t
want to share with them, that’s invasion of personal space, think about it. BUT,
we can’t blame them; people only know what we choose to tell them, right? People
only know what we allow them to know. So ultimately we are our own enemies if
we go around sharing even the colors of our underpants with strangers, or how
we managed to sneak French fries into the fitness class and munch on them while
everybody else does planks and crunches, yeah that’s messed up. So here is my
list of 5 people you DO NOT at all want to share your secrets with. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>5. A friend who works in a salon<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Seriously, what’s wrong with
these ladies? Okay I’m guessing you want to know HOW I know this. Well, my
barber happens to be in the same office space with a bunch of salon ladies, so
when I go get my fade so I look like I’m about to feature in Bad Boys IV, I hear
what these ladies talk about. Damn, they know EVERYTHING!!! From who is bonking
who in the neighborhood, to which previous customer didn’t buy her own Brazilian
hair. These ladies discuss uncensored x rated matters fam. Salons should have a
sign that says, “persons under the age of 18 are not allowed here dammit”, or
better have earmuffs to be used in there. Salon ladies even know Victoria’s
secret! So don’t you dare share anything with them at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<b>4. Any aunt with a gold tooth.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I bet my aunt is reading this and
thinking I’m throwing shade on her again, relax woman. So guys, I do not
understand why these folks with a certain awkward gold tooth stuck up between
crooked teeth always find it relevant to like just be the community paparazzi.
I swear if you hear some juicy gossip going on around you, say in an elevator
or in a bus or taxi on your way home, just look at the captain of this gossip,
you will see some shiny gold tooth crying to be freed. Sometimes it is not even
gold, it is just copper but the gossip will polish that thing as it leaves the
mouth and makes it look like 18 carats gold in its finest form. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodppxTU7PBAamSnSsT5Ga7sPL2RqkcHoZ3ZqLxRlDiZgVrIKDEM89In4fek-D18XSJmQn2VgMd8MWGNLDdBbLNu55rbZK0xheercH38jKcidzDkn6pviAhVjM1p49mtCdaj3efJ0Ei9s/s1600/golddd.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodppxTU7PBAamSnSsT5Ga7sPL2RqkcHoZ3ZqLxRlDiZgVrIKDEM89In4fek-D18XSJmQn2VgMd8MWGNLDdBbLNu55rbZK0xheercH38jKcidzDkn6pviAhVjM1p49mtCdaj3efJ0Ei9s/s400/golddd.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>3. Anyone who starts talking like, “Please don’t tell anyone, I also
just heard’<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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SHUT UP!!! JUST SHUT UP!!! Why
are human beings so complicated?? So you are going to go ahead and tell me something
you are not sure of, I guess that’s why you are not open to me sharing it with
anybody else. In the first place, you just HEARD, and now you want to tell me
and I should not tell anyone, why? Cause I’m like the gossip dumpsite or what? Respect
my ears please don’t feed me crap that you are not ready to back up please. These
people are so creepy because they will go ahead and share your secrets and tell
people, “I will tell you but don’t tell anyone else”, then those people are
also going to do the same thing over and over, it’s like a cycle of scared columnists
trying to deliver the breaking news but no one wants to be held accountable. Stupid.
Hahaha. Do not go and tell people like that cause you are exactly who shouldn’t
be told secrets, man. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_c8RppQDcRs6RV-SR2M_1t28pULVA6vSPE095wQPKiWGAfBECRsXHuz0bfLEBXu_ouNO6Vzkz95m8aTyZO2URnu0sgCEZlPOlOkQOhIcPrev_A2xIt82lt_g1lAqFHm9iJT1CS5Du7E/s1600/18lpbnjx9n3ycjpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_c8RppQDcRs6RV-SR2M_1t28pULVA6vSPE095wQPKiWGAfBECRsXHuz0bfLEBXu_ouNO6Vzkz95m8aTyZO2URnu0sgCEZlPOlOkQOhIcPrev_A2xIt82lt_g1lAqFHm9iJT1CS5Du7E/s400/18lpbnjx9n3ycjpg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>2. Someone with a Facebook name ending with –licious<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Think about these people for a
moment. Oo beautilicious noo Rare pinky-love Cuddlelicios, those people are what’s
wrong with the internet! Their pages are full of the juiciest and most recent
gossip ever! I even wonder why we do not have a gossip column show on our
national tv yet. I left so many whatsapp groups in recent days and it is always
somehow because there is some –licious person who is just out there preaching
to us about things we do not need or want to hear. I remember when my friend
changed her name to Candylicios and I almost called her parents to inform them
that their daughter needs immediate emancipation from an alien disease that
makes people stick their noses everywhere and spit our unverified information
about other people. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b>1<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> 1. M</span></b><b>y uncle. (He’s got a tooth gap)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Oh my word this guy will let your secrets known to whoever
he meets!! Okay let’s get one thing straight, I feel like we need to understand
him though, I mean this man has a tooth gap the size of space between Australia
and New Zealand! WOW!! Every time he even says something bad about me, I’m just
like, “Stef, you need to understand that maybe these words just escaped from
his mouth using that gate between his front two teeth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7pKNAWAgLmfVHm25ts-byeIyXHo2SUemfGjZWxqms4MKVGCN-DKdRx5JOhFT9b6FAEILFfHJw59VqQdjdv8r-XssnPVWGVluFgOw9VUs6EmjCR2N4ZdLCWQ301yT32sKcFSbjRDPZTI/s1600/3868befb35003751c80b678dea396702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7pKNAWAgLmfVHm25ts-byeIyXHo2SUemfGjZWxqms4MKVGCN-DKdRx5JOhFT9b6FAEILFfHJw59VqQdjdv8r-XssnPVWGVluFgOw9VUs6EmjCR2N4ZdLCWQ301yT32sKcFSbjRDPZTI/s400/3868befb35003751c80b678dea396702.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I can’t even get over the day he looked at me and said, “Hey!!
Thtefanuth!! Come thay hi to your uncle!!!”, then I walked up to him with so
much fear that looking straight into his tooth gap will victimize my rather
fragile soul. It looks like a black hole fam. That tooth gap probably pays its
own cab when my uncle goes from town back home. I swear when he was in school,
his tooth gap had its own table and chair in class also. Like guy has a whole
cave in his mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So next time you meet my uncle and feel like you should
share your secret with him, think twice because the words won’t have curfew in
his mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m off to go get me some lunch. Share this with your
friends to make sure they share their secrets with the right people. <o:p></o:p></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-30890205241597888622017-01-16T03:25:00.000-08:002018-10-22T03:54:45.454-07:00Frank Fredericks would have been proud of me.<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Flight or fight? Flight.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That was me, all the time my uncles tried
to lay their hands on me. I was gloriously naughty. I think I messed up almost
daily, the only times when I didn’t do something worth of getting me whipped
was when I slept, which was very minimal. I was the most problematic 8 years
old in the village and I grew up thinking that my name is ‘Haitii kaanaave” which
translates to a rather not so kind “hey you kid’. I did the best I could do, to
be the best kid ever, but I just had so much energy in me. I really could not
contain it and so I resorted to just being me. Naughty and always out and about.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mum told me I was a very handsome kid, which
doesn’t add up, why would you then let your cousins and aunties whip your handsome
kid? Made me feel like she only said that because I’m her son and you’ve got to
constantly tell your kid that he is handsome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I grew up in a village. Like any other boy,
I had to spend most of my time herding cattle and goats and that’s like the
utmost curse for a wambo kid, it is responsible for 93% of the beatings we
receive growing up. In my case, it was negligence, I had a “Wat sal hulle maak?”
mentality and my pace gave me reason to just let shit hit the fan cause when
my uncles pull out their belts and try to whip me, I miraculously transformed
into a short little Frank Fredericks, leaving them in a cloud of dust while I gallop
away like a fresh and young antelope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This one time, me and my fav cousin Waka
decided we will do what many kids do; play with toy cattle made of clay soil.
We sat and put our hands to work, not realizing the most rude and really petty
goats running into mum’s field. Now THAT’S like a one way ticket into the killing
zone, I mean when that happens, you better just pray to God and call on your ancestors
to guide your soul to heaven cause boy you are in shit!!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Of course my cousin panicked, well as of
me, I’m just like “let me flex my legs cause there’s a 400m sprint today”. We
quickly detour’d the goats out. Time passed and at about 17:00 when we had to
take them back to the kraal, we heard our uncle calling us. I knew that something
was not right. So we went to him and he asked us if we herd goats in the field,
LOL, like nigga just whip us don’t go all Harvard Law School on us jeez cut us
some slack yo. Well, blah blah blah, next thing I know, we are required to go
pick the branches so he whips us. Yes, we needed to pick our own whips. That’s
like blending your own poison to drink later, like running yourself over with a
car. I picked the weakest, smallest, most fragile sprout from the nearest ka
tree, I had a bigger plan. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My cousin was up first, so my uncle went all berzerk
on him and half way in, I decided to do the usual ritual. “Flight or fight?
FLIIIGGGHHHTTTT” and with that, I threw the branch down and bolted off like a gazelle,
running with my shirt flying behind my back like a kite, cutting through the
air like a Porsche. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My cousin’s cries encouraged me to run as
fast and far as possible. All I needed was a 3 seconds head start and I knew my
uncle won’t catch up with me, fam I was flying like a Sparrow!!! He probably
came after me but the dust I made perhaps just saved me from his wrath. I didn’t
look back as I ran, I just wanted to get as far as possible. And long story
short, I joined boxing classes later on. Just so I can stand there and do the
ritual like, “flight or fight? Bring it on you little wrinkled uncle, let’s
dance!! But yeah we never danced cause “respect”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-73575672055632140542016-10-30T04:00:00.001-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.775-07:00My terrible dinner with a couple. <div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="58j6-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="58j6-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="58j6-0-0"><span data-text="true">Do not go out with two people who are dating each other :(</span></span></div>
</div>
<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="aaqfj-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="aaqfj-0-0">
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</span></span></div>
</div>
<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0"><span data-text="true">So last night I picked up a call and my friend said "hey dude can we go out for dinner and a few drinks?" Nigga is full of jokes so I was not sure if he is serious kaa. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;">I was like, "Man why you gotta joke like this? Are you serious? Don't play like dis man, dude are you serious you know I'm hungry!!</span></span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6i9KTvDIgdsX_YcO0AKzGyBEcx-MJw7unGBtx_6qTArb0_3KJF2uHiMs3LkzpcXMHBbmpordUkOX_E90tb4tm5r-bVRtYyBKMNqsidUKKabNUKbSfu4LkWKd6w6ug92jEZ9zbtNWuwE/s1600/193971-caster-semenya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6i9KTvDIgdsX_YcO0AKzGyBEcx-MJw7unGBtx_6qTArb0_3KJF2uHiMs3LkzpcXMHBbmpordUkOX_E90tb4tm5r-bVRtYyBKMNqsidUKKabNUKbSfu4LkWKd6w6ug92jEZ9zbtNWuwE/s400/193971-caster-semenya.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bdmvr-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
</div>
<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true">he said, "dude I'm serious let's go out for drinks and food!!"</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true">I'm like, "yeah sure bro no problem" but in my heart, "<span style="font-size: large;">oh man these are the friends I need around me, look at God!"</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchFtEePV_Wyo2TsESBLZM9NXWtvlkw_k2dwDGicrE0WtX1OYm3AZMe6mlFN4HpuJ9eXYORQElu62vd8YIf-TvkGxAhEUraPTkk08hurd8tEqTmO5nzqHPKUjV7vAzMJjiMqFL5Q8MwGo/s1600/McLL9byni.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchFtEePV_Wyo2TsESBLZM9NXWtvlkw_k2dwDGicrE0WtX1OYm3AZMe6mlFN4HpuJ9eXYORQElu62vd8YIf-TvkGxAhEUraPTkk08hurd8tEqTmO5nzqHPKUjV7vAzMJjiMqFL5Q8MwGo/s400/McLL9byni.png" width="325" /></a></div>
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<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="51b3q-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span><span data-offset-key="1ened-0-0"><span data-text="true">So I drove my hungry self to the mall, as fast as possible, pumping Tate Buti's Mondalaye song,</span></span></div>
</div>
<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="1ened-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1ened-0-0" style="text-align: center;">
<span data-offset-key="1ened-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1ened-0-0" style="text-align: left;">
<span data-offset-key="1ened-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;"> And ignoring all other incoming calls like: NOOOO!!! YOU CAN'T COME BETWEEN ME AND FOOD!!!</span></span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1ened-0-0" style="text-align: left;">
<span data-offset-key="1ened-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQebnYxb_dodhqNE2UG7_6wiDx8ZfJAQWhNo2Bsp-2DBbz4Gp-ltTK5-MmoX_sDd93rksgYJcHKI6x-u15wB0drmHIp3avJ3bCuFAi7SwxknCqB3JRQqOoaRPuYAP7DPHKrblEWIdnc8/s1600/funniest-usain-bolt-memes-04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQebnYxb_dodhqNE2UG7_6wiDx8ZfJAQWhNo2Bsp-2DBbz4Gp-ltTK5-MmoX_sDd93rksgYJcHKI6x-u15wB0drmHIp3avJ3bCuFAi7SwxknCqB3JRQqOoaRPuYAP7DPHKrblEWIdnc8/s400/funniest-usain-bolt-memes-04.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1ened-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1ened-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1ened-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
</div>
<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="8peg0-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="8peg0-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="8peg0-0-0"><span data-text="true">
</span></span></div>
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<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="4n3vd-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="4n3vd-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="4n3vd-0-0"><span data-text="true">I got there and there was my friend, we did our thing like Pogba and Ander Herrera, gangster stuff, with a little cheeky dab. I was like, <span style="font-size: large;">"who's this?",</span> pointing at the little tiny yellow bone standing next to him. </span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="4n3vd-0-0"><span data-text="true"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdddZqpRce3JlXHMYHQI2DW3vhVAIzrwYEEoG_TiYLc8cYrdSK-copZt4sUBGZZ5DiQBFLZFTe2iK39q65z1800flPWELPwvt1h5n2Te48ETEbbqrjz3DGM0KtTOMuCTSD3CBHVAiMEN4/s1600/4f69f3cff689456de12ebbaad7203f7c3d6a03d96b2bc6b5a9379484c245f864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdddZqpRce3JlXHMYHQI2DW3vhVAIzrwYEEoG_TiYLc8cYrdSK-copZt4sUBGZZ5DiQBFLZFTe2iK39q65z1800flPWELPwvt1h5n2Te48ETEbbqrjz3DGM0KtTOMuCTSD3CBHVAiMEN4/s400/4f69f3cff689456de12ebbaad7203f7c3d6a03d96b2bc6b5a9379484c245f864.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="93pdg-0-0"><span data-text="true">
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<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0"><span data-text="true">'That's my girlfriend"</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0"><span data-text="true">*there was a bit of silence*</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="a0v38-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"><span data-text="true">In my heart I was like, <span style="font-size: large;">"You guy, you brought me here to be a third wheel? So that I entertain you and your girl or what?</span> I should start charging people for hanging with me!!!", </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8e78oY0_v8B3p9tJuTJ9aqAyLExHkawC4DWdKUpevEwv1Rczat-X8KOxUD1YvfGwBItO38_BYUepUsSYa7PJxv-WBvG1CateHOCBsUqgjQbo0Qp3w2WQPnuAd85dE2HU0XAbWJ7WFuA/s1600/35qhic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8e78oY0_v8B3p9tJuTJ9aqAyLExHkawC4DWdKUpevEwv1Rczat-X8KOxUD1YvfGwBItO38_BYUepUsSYa7PJxv-WBvG1CateHOCBsUqgjQbo0Qp3w2WQPnuAd85dE2HU0XAbWJ7WFuA/s400/35qhic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0">
<span data-text="true"></span></span><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="b7j16-0-0"><span data-text="true">But because he is my friend, I was just like, "ow cool, hey there my name is Stefan, but you can call me Stef". <span style="font-size: large;">I was trying to be really polite.</span> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg10UCYBGOXJrc_N2UFTHu0yY2OGuV7JgZoscoit14oD1c-90tEJBFjmY0_eo-xXE3kUh0GX-j-oAg3VyvGw-zUontlTwrroo-JWgENDjruVZ75N4n34SHm4THxrQstghcA6P9dKhqJyE0/s1600/very-nice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg10UCYBGOXJrc_N2UFTHu0yY2OGuV7JgZoscoit14oD1c-90tEJBFjmY0_eo-xXE3kUh0GX-j-oAg3VyvGw-zUontlTwrroo-JWgENDjruVZ75N4n34SHm4THxrQstghcA6P9dKhqJyE0/s400/very-nice.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="emk-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="emk-0-0"><span data-text="true">So we sat down and my goodness it was terrible for me, they kept feeding each other and cracking unfunny jokes that I had to laugh at to be polite enough. :(</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="emk-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="emk-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fdbf9-0-0"><span data-text="true">
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<div data-block="true" data-editor="935ef" data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true">But let me cut the long story short, the most terrible part was that the girl was super funny but the guy didn't really get the girl's jokes quick enough to laugh. I wanted to laugh but... I had to wait for the boyfriend to laugh first. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span data-offset-key="emk-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;">I clearly saw that the guy was not getting the jokes</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span data-offset-key="emk-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span data-offset-key="emk-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span data-offset-key="emk-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;">So I waited some seconds for him to get the joke.</span></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But he wasn't going to get the Joke!!!! so I had to freakin explain to him!!! Aaarrrgg</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true">To be honest, I am never doing that to myself, ever again!!! </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true">Also I am not sure if it was me explaining jokes that was a terrible thing for me or it was the "very peri" sauce I had on my chicken that was too chili, eew. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span> </div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1mivu-0-0"><span data-text="true">but if there is any friend who wants us to go for food and drinks, please let me know, I'm all about that. If you are going to bring your girl, arg I will be fine, as long as there is food, haha. Cheers.</span></span></div>
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Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-56253882406316573122016-09-28T01:51:00.003-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.645-07:00Why I still maintain my innocence Earlier today at the office, a piece of pork schnitzel that was wrapped in aluminum foil with a N$17:55 Pick n Pay price tag on it went missing from the common fridge. The description matched what the apparent owner's descriptions are. This is a piece of pork that I have not seen at all, I mean I haven't seen any schnitzel since August. As a matter of fact, I haven't been in that kitchen prior to speculations that there is a schnitzel piece that got mugged out of the fridge. <br />
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After rigorous speculations, which didn't involve me because I committed to finding a tooth pick to pick my clogged teeth, the evidence apparently pointed at me. This came as a very big surprise as I am a very good friend of the victim, the guy who previously owned the pork schnitzel is a very good friend of mine. We are even in the same whatsApp groups and we all start work at 08:00, that's how close of friends we are. Now to say that I, Stef took that pork is very very, VERY impolite. <br />
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I am just a little guy trying to live life, one day at a time. <br />
<br />
In the absence of lawyers willing to represent me as I get interrogated in a whatsApp group, I wish to explain and bring forth facts, why I am innocent and not "guilty beyond reasonable doubt". <br />
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<br />
<strong>1. I am on a vegetarian diet this week.</strong><br />
<br />
one thing that these people failed to consider is that I am on a vegetarian diet this week. Not directly, more indirectly. You see, animals like Kudu and cattle are vegetarians, they only eat grass and veggies. Now for me, I don't want to compete with them so instead of me eating vegetables directly, I eat the animals that eat vegetables. This way, they still keep their food cause I won't eat them, nah uh. But I also get to benefit from the grass and all vegies, through the animals that eat them. Pigs only eat apples and milk, these are facts from Animal farm just in case ya'll don't believe me.<br />
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<br />
<strong>2. There was cake in the fridge (apparently)</strong><br />
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Everyone knows that I love cake. I am like a cake addict. I probably eat more cake than the average person on their birthday. I eat more cake than a bride and groom on their wedding day. I eat cake when I am sad, when I am happy, when I am hurt, when I am in love, when I am late, when I am on diet, when I am broke, when I get money, when I am at home, at work, in my car, at the cinema, at funerals, at independence celebrations. I eat cake all the time that when I can't afford a slice of cake, I go eat fat cakes. Now to say that I could take a pork schnitzel out of a fridge and leave cake there, you must be out of your mind. You are joking.<br />
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<strong>3. I don't even love pork.</strong><br />
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okay that's a lie, pffft. I love pork. but I DID NOT, take that one out of the fridge and throw the aluminum foil in the kaSmall bin in the office.<br />
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<br />
<strong>4. The evidence is not enough.</strong><br />
<br />
Apparently I am the only one who kept giggling and picking my teeth minutes after the schnitzel walked out of the fridge. But did you see me eat it? If we go to a doctor for an x-ray right now, will you see that pork in my tummy? Will you be able to stand in front of St. Paul and say that I ate the pork? Please.<br />
<br />
<strong>5.</strong> <br />
<br />
I can't think of more reasons. :(<br />
<br />
let's just let it go. I seriously need to find a proper toothpick and also a glass of water, this oil is making me feel funny in my tummy. <br />
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<br />Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-7450340742639240182016-07-11T05:40:00.003-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.798-07:00Take all, just not my Coffee Mug!So it is a very good Monday morning, I am in a suit and I smell like a basket of roses. The finest of them all. I've got my hair combed, this is not normal for me. My hairline is behaving and I am wearing my "hey ya'll what's good?" typa smile, I am electrified! I am ready to take on this so called blue Monday and nothing can stop me. Everything I touch blows up like dynamite.<br />
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"></span><br />
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I made myself even more comfortable in the rotating chair, with my legs dangling half way to the floor. Haters gonna say I'm short, well I am not really short, everyone is just tall. So I pick my tasks and head off to the small cute kitchen in the office building. I smiled wide, I'm sure it was more of a really stupid grin when I saw the coffee machine. With my index finger, I pressed "ON" and holly molly the orgasmic feeling as its fans kicked in, that almost silent "bbbzzzzzz" as it carefully prepares the load of coffee beans to grind and churn the moment you press "COFFEE". Yaaayyy<br />
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So I headed back to my office which is just a few yards away from the kitchen, walking as if I am almost dancing across the hall way. My shoes making that "tap, tap" sound as I gentlemanly hop across the tiled floor. Trying hard not to slip. I arrived at my desk, searched it for my awesome coffee mug. And... it is not there. I thought, "Hmmm, perhaps I left it at the sink, let me go back to the kitchen", I often did that. So I head back to the kitchen, clicking my fingers and waving my arms, sending my suit in waves like a flag. <br />
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"></span><br />
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I got to the kitchen and screened it through my bifocal specs, there was no ways I was going to miss a thing in that small room. I saw the table cloths, I saw the glasses and cups, the stubborn spider on the wall, somehow it never dies even when we empty a doom can in that room, I swear that spider is immune to chemicals now. I searched once, twice, THRICE, FOURICE... Okay maybe fourice isn't a word. Point is, I searched for the FOURTH time and my coffee mug was nowhere to be found. <br />
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WHERE IS MY COFFEE MUG? Who would dare to take it in the first place? I made it clear the first day I got it that "YOU MAY TAKE ANYTHING, JUST NOT MY COFFEE MUG!!!!!" <br />
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My blood boiled, my face felt like ants walking on it as sweat started to form, my collars suddenly felt tighter around my neck and my lips started to tremble like I was playing a flute. I was on a 5 here, I could not afford to get to 10 but damn my coffee mug was gone. Just about three months after I got it, I never even dropped it, I never left it dirty, I never ever made it feel like it was not loved. But just like that, boom, it was no where to be found. GONE!!! But we all know the coffee mug can't grow tiny ceramic legs and walk away right?<br />
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Hol'up! Someone out there is having my coffee mug. Holding it hostage ready to use it. Probably not keeping it in a "cold and dry place" and I am here ready to chew coffee beans and gurgle hot water to make up for a missed cup of coffee? Naw man, it is not happening. I have to make the things that will even us up, possible. <br />
<br />
I have to make sure that justice is delivered in this situation, if it means launching an operation "Find Pie's Coffee Mug", I shall do that! So first things first, I can't get coffee because someone out there cupnapped my coffee mug? Then no one at the office will have coffee. So I disconnected the coffee machine and pasted on it a note that read, "OUT OF ORDER"<br />
<br />
I am sorry but when you take my coffee mug, you will just awaken my pettiness. <br />
<br />
I walked back to my office with my head low, looking so broken, like a kid who just threw his last penny in the chocolate vendor machine, just to realize that the machine is switched off. I am hurt! After everything I have done to preserve that coffee mug, someone took it away from me. <br />
<br />
I am getting a new coffee mug and this time, I am protecting it with my life. Touch it and get sniped! Pew pew, "Mayday mayday, we have a situation, the subject is seen heading for the kitchen with the absolutely fantastic coffee mug of Mr. PieMysterious, AKA Blue Short Pants, AKA Stef... get in formation!!<br />
<br />
Much love ya'll, (Even for the Coffee Mug Thief). And My Aunt too.<br />
<span style="background-color: yellow;"></span><br />Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-42684555744668280292016-07-08T02:09:00.002-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.563-07:00HeartsI can not lose my identity in trying to identify with you. <br />
<br />
But little does that knowledge grant freedom to this heart. You enslaved me with your unapologetic stare, my inner voice hushed by your silence, yet your loud presence echoed in the distance, like a scorching sun it burned my soul to ashes. Have you noticed the scars we bear? The marks for ages to come, I saw them daily, when the days got dark, I started to feel them with trembling fear that I would never know what you meant when you said, "You understand."<br />
<br />
Maybe the symbols we left to mark our space in this wide universe would have helped locate our true identities, but the dust settled and all I could see was space. Where you used to be, the vast void that speech could not fill. I got to feel like the world hates us as much, even our own voices stopped to echo back to us, space took them in but denied us a place called home. We lived for tomorrows that we never really got to reach. The future painted in what made it through the dust. I celebrated my nature to not be able to walk away. Now I hate my then abilities to not see through the crystal clear surface, as we walked on thin ice, unknowingly treading on enchanted land. <br />
<br />
Past ghosts of uncertainty, haunting us and driving us to our farthest extremes, bullying us into believing that our destinies were stretched by unmatched patterns. The light at the end of the tunnel was blinding, the morning stars lifting the dark curtains over the darkened nights. Speech with it, it took away more than a day could build. <br />
<br />
I saw your image, but I did not know you. <br />
<br />
Wait, time sealed the misfortunes, bottled it up and threw it down the river. The tide carrying it down to places we left for good, for all it takes we will never go back. stretching over for the pebble heap, skidding over the stream, hoping they make it to the banks. The vast space of "what ifs", the discomfort in thinking of the worst that could happen. But I still plunged down, risking what was left, for what you never even told me. Swam when I could, not that I wanted to be a hero, to rescue your apparent brokenness, no... I did so because you were strong enough to rescue me in case I drowned in my own sorrow.<br />
<br />
All that just to be eclipsed by the happiness we never dreamt of. Hold my hand. Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-41380789421047763092016-02-09T06:57:00.002-08:002018-10-22T03:54:45.520-07:00Open letter to the Hard Pizza Maker :(Pizza should be in any state. It can have so much salt, less cheese, stones, sand, whatever. It can be as bad as any disgruntled Chef can choose to make it. It will probably have a name that suits that state anyways. <br />
<br />
There is only one state that makes pizza so bad, when pizza comes as hard as a stone. My goodness, what did I just have for lunch? That pizza from a famous pizza place in Windhoek was as hard as a plate tectonic. I swear I thought I was eating a little island. Like a piece of Seychelles or Mauritius. <br />
<br />
You ever had to chew something so hard that you had to close your eyes and pray that your westerns do not implode? my human rights were painfully violated. I literally got a pizza that enslaved me for 38 minutes. Why didn't I return it? I don't know, I mean... I really don't know. <br />
<br />
The amount of force my jaws had to exert on that pizza can most probably not even be calculated using any of Einstein's formulas. I am as tired as ever. N$79.55 wasted on a pizza that was harder than the rock that was inscribed with the 10 Commandments. I am inclined to think that they mined that pizza. I was hungry. Little did I know that ordering a pizza will in the end make me angry.<br />
<br />
Here is an open letter to the place that made this pizza that was delivered to me.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Dear Hard Pizza Makers</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I hope that this open letter catches you off guard while you try and deliver more hard pizzas to innocent people. Let me let you in on a secret, the pizza you made that poor guy deliver to me, on an outdated scooter for that matter, it was as hard as marble. </blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
It took me 38 minutes to finish the first slice. 38 Minutes, do you know how long 38 minutes is? You don't, because you stay in that place and eat your puff chips and fruits while you send us pizza that could be used to renovate the old Parliament. Maybe if you made enough hard pizzas, it could be used to build us a new parliament so we don't have to waste 700million. Ya'll should decide whether you even want to make pizza or bricks. </blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I had to bite that pizza with as much force as you would need if you wanted to dethrone Robert Mugabe. just so you know, medical aid doesn't cover injuries to jaws caused by hard pizzas. I wasted my 79.55 Namibian dollars that I could have used to buy something more useful like airtime to call you and really scold you for that stone pizza that you made. You owe me consultation fees with my dentist you unreasonable brick layers. </blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I thought of laying charges against ya'll. Jaw breaking attempt. Shame on you. I am so done with ya'll. Every time from now onwards, when you send out a hard pizza to a loyal (and a little broke) customer like me, just know that you could be responsible for jaw surgery. If you read this letter up to now you hard pizza making little piece of cat poo, you should go sit in a corner and think of what you just did. </blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Without even the tiniest kind regards,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Mad loyal (and a little broke) customer.</blockquote>
Do not reply to this letter because I will be in a doctor's room getting my jaws fixed and from here I will see a Psychologist because I am traumatized from how hard that pizza was. <br />
<br />
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-80202863032366297912016-02-01T04:58:00.000-08:002018-10-22T03:54:45.840-07:00You've got to learn how to keep up with Women. Nothing is more awkward than sending a text that reads, "I am at this other erotic place", when it should have read "exotic place". Worse is when you send it to your crush and now she thinks you are definitely a night wanker. Disappointments. I do not like smart phones at all. You know what else is smart but will give you chest pains? Women. Yes that was not a typing error.<br />
<br />
Women are very smart and that is the problem that we men will always face. They think ahead, they read between the lines and they know what you are going to say before you even say it. <br />
<br />
Women don't ask to get answers, they ask so they confirm what they already know, women don't look for you, they come fetch you from where you are<br />
<br />
You disagree with what I just said? It is okay! Isokaaaay!!! I can't believe you people believe in things like Santa Claus and the 4 leaf clover but you may not believe reality. This is reality! <br />
<br />
A typical conversation on the phone with a woman will go like, now let us assume these two just recently met. <br />
<br />
Him: Hey, did you get your hair done then? You told me about it yesterday.<br />
<br />
Her: Oh yeah, I did.<br />
<br />
Him: Send me a pic, let me see. <br />
<br />
Her: My eyebrows are not done yet I look horrible. <br />
<br />
Him: Oh no it is not always about your looks, it is about your heart... I mean... <br />
<br />
Her: Huh? Wait, you want to see my titties already??<br />
<br />
Him: No I said your heart not your...<br />
<br />
Her: I thought you were different.<br />
<br />
Him: No you don't understand I did not mean your titties. I meant your heart.<br />
<br />
Her: So you are saying you don't want to see my boobies then?<br />
<br />
Him: Uhm... <br />
<br />
Her: Okay fine, go see the boobies you are used to.<br />
<br />
him: No come on let me explain, I meant... *beep, beep, beep*<br />
<br />
That phone was cut and he probably will not even believe what just happened, because he could not keep up. Women will have you on your toe tips. <br />
<br />
A good guy will probably text her. I mean, we are that gentlemanly. We like to show affection. We like to be kind because that's life. Who wants to be rude to a woman? You must be out of your mind, in fact you must be walking around with an empty skull. Even a dead mind would know better. So let us say he brings out his soft side and text her.<br />
<br />
Him: :) I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.<br />
<br />
Her: Talk to you later, I can't use my phone.<br />
<br />
Him: Why? Where are you?<br />
<br />
Her: At the hospital. <br />
<br />
Him: For what? <br />
<br />
Her: For these chest pains that you caused me.<br />
<br />
Him: Oh no C'mon now don't do this.<br />
<br />
Her: I will block you if you keep insisting.<br />
<br />
*4 minute silence*<br />
<br />
Her: John?<br />
<br />
Her: John?? Are you ignoring me?<br />
<br />
Her: John please talk to me.<br />
<br />
Her: :( You are a fuckboy.<br />
<br />
Him: No I am not. :(<br />
<br />
Her: Why are you denying it? Why you catching? People only catch if what is being said is true.<br />
<br />
Him: *switches phone off, destroy sim card, sells phone, buys ticket to India, start farming with cows*<br />
<br />
She was probably a handful but hey, ya'll men out there with girlfriends and wives, nothing is more beautiful than having to understand your lady despite what she makes you go through. Women are fragile too so be a gentleman because if you get tired sooner than she can choose to hug you and whisper sweet "somethings" to you, it could all blow up. <br />
<br />
John could not keep up. He can continue holding his L. Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-59123455246044911882016-01-07T00:46:00.001-08:002018-10-22T03:54:45.687-07:00Holiday Reflections. Blue Short Pants is back!!!THIS IS MY WELCOME BACK POST!!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
My sincere apologies to all those who grew old waiting for Blue Short Pants to break the silence. I also grew a beard procrastinating on a new post. It has really been a while. In fact, I have been gone for a period longer than the gestation period of a mouse or the total lifespan of a fly, actually a fly would've gotten a partner, got married, got small flies, they also get their partners, bring forth other flies and so on, for 10 fly generations. That is a very long time. <br />
<br />
Do I have a reason why I have been gone for so long? No I don't. I have reasons. many reasons. I could publish a 157 Page book just explaining why I have been gone but one reason will stand out, I have been on a long extended holiday. I have been exercising my skills as an uncle, big brother and new neighbor to two families who won't share their Wi-Fi password with me. <br />
<br />
Why are people so grumpy these days? I just moved in. Maybe its because I haven't gone to introduce myself to the, well tough luck to me. now I have to buy 3 Gigabytes of data from MTC that only last a few days. I swear it finishes before Usain Bolt crosses the 100m line on his best day. I still stay with them though because they run selfie competitions and that is the only way I can get free selfies from girls at a finger tip. <br />
<br />
<em>*click, zoom, save to gallery, show my friend who once said I don't date fly girls, get caught that I don't even know the girl, delete photo, go back to MTC's twitter TL and get a new photo* </em><br />
<br />
December was lit! We all know how the mood is always in the same margin as those of party freaks. I was on that bus for 9 hours, seated like a well behaved passenger. I didn't even complain about the Nomvula house song that was on replay for 9 freakin hours, nor did I complain about that Junior boy who kept holding on to my shoulder to find his balance, with his barbeque and custard smeared hands, after his mother let him carry a chicken piece that was bigger than Iggy Azalea's career. I sat peacefully, noticing every kilometer as I got closer to Wamboland. <br />
<br />
And who doesn't like going back home? I was happy, as the mountains ceased and the number of donkeys stalled in the road started. When that happens, you know you are in Wamboland. I arrived home very early in the morning, well at first I thought it was almost sunrise but then I checked my time and it was still 04:00am, then I noticed that the glow that I saw wasn't the sun coming up, it was my Auntie's fake necklace. Oh it is so fake that the story of the tooth fairy is much more real compared to her supposedly 18 carat gold necklace that looks like an artifact from ancient Rome. <br />
<br />
I was home for about three days. With my four year old niece asking questions at the pace of Busta Rhyme's rap, I was exhausted by the second day. The third was just to fulfill my Uncleship promises. <br />
She asked so many questions that at some point, I had to look her straight into the eyes and see if she is by any chance a double of Kazembire Zemburuka. <br />
<br />
<em>translated into English</em><br />
<em></em><br />
Her: Uncle do you want juice?<br />
Me: Yes love<br />
Her: Uncle do you want the orange or the yellow juice?<br />
Me: The orange juice.<br />
Her: But uncle the yellow one is better.<br />
Me: Okay give me the yellow juice.<br />
Her: Why don't you want the orange juice?<br />
Me: You said the yellow one is better.<br />
Her: *holding both bottles* Can we mix them?<br />
Me: Yes we can.<br />
Her: Which one do we put in first?<br />
Me; The yellow one.<br />
Her: And we put in the orange one after?<br />
Me: Yes<br />
Her: But uncle, the orange juice is not good we will get sick if we mix them.<br />
Me: Okay lets not mix them.<br />
Her: Why?<br />
Me: Oh Monalisa you ask a lot of questions, lets just drink juice please.<br />
Her: Do you want a cool drink?<br />
Me: Yes.<br />
Her: Coke or Fanta?<br />
Me: OMG you kid! Give me coke.<br />
Her: We don't have coke.<br />
Me: *looking straight in her eyes* You only have 20 words left for the day, if you finish them up, you won't be able to talk anymore.<br />
Her: Words don't get finished uncle. I can even sing for the whole day.<br />
Me: Yes they do.<br />
Her: You are stupid uncle. <br />
Me: *walks out of the living room*<br />
<br />
That is what you have to put up with when a four year old doesn't like toys. Spend more time with her, you answer questions all day long, you go away from her, you miss her cute little dimple-face. <br />
<br />
So after three days I went to Outapi in northern Namibia. I love the place and the people. <br />
I don't know man, really I love the place. people are so wonderful too, just one problem about it all. Their Pizza. Sigh. <br />
<br />
So I went 'somewhere' to get myself a pizza. I ordered a Pizza called Outapi flavor. When the Pizza came, oh boy. have you ever had to use both your hands to pull that pizza as you try to take a bite from it? have you ever seen pizza crumbles like bread? No you didn't, because you never had that pizza. I was like, okay this is clearly not what I wanted, let me order myself a vegetarian pizza instead. Huge mistake. The pizza came and I am sure I ate a piece of beef chunk in that pizza. I don't have to explain how I felt. <br />
<br />
I was glad to be back home, time flew by so fast and look where we are now, in 2016, the year of great success. A shout out to my new awesome friends! happy new year to ya'll. <br />
<br />
Please note that I changed my twitter and IG handles, why?? I don't know, lol.. I just felt like a mysterious pie so follow me @pieMysterious <br />
<br />
Cheers!! Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-75948002823777067452015-11-08T22:43:00.000-08:002018-10-22T03:54:45.819-07:00My most memorable Birthday <div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">My very first day on earth. My very first birthday.
I don't remember a thing but with news that I was born premature, I can imagine
that I was very very tiny, perhaps so tiny I could fit in a size 4 shoe. I was
probably so light that the nurses had to wear nose masks so that they do not
blow me away with their breath. I can just imagine the amount of coordination
that mum had to employ to hold me, so delicate and fragile like a Rat's egg. She even told me that I was so tiny she could actually wash me in my own lunch box, I hope my lunch box wasn't the 200g Rama butter container.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I hope those nurses didn't whip my then almost
nonexistent ass to make me cry. I can imagine the nurses placing me in my glass
cubicle, in a room filled with other impatient kids who could not wait for nine
months. There probably was a whole lot of other smaller kids but I must have
been the smallest one. I don't know, I probably just laid there with my eyes
closed and asking myself, "Dude what the heck? Couldn't you wait for
another week if you can't take two more months?, well, welcome on Earth!!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">So that was it, my first day on Earth, having
joined other humans, it was joy to my family, especially to my big sister. She
finally had someone to bully. I just hate the fact that I had to grow up asking
myself why she's a yellow bone and I am dark. We happened to be the real beauty
and the beast of our family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">So enough with that, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!! I just
had to say that, well, let me share my most memorable Birthday to date. Have
you ever imagined what other kids ask for birthdays? I would say its always
either some good toys or if you are a Cake ogre like me, CAKE!! I would share
anything except cake or cheese, things we never always had at home though. I
was 9 years old, I was in my prime. I was at that stage where it is either
a cake or a grumpy face for 24 hours. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Not only was I so excited about a double figure age but also to the
great news Mum gave me weeks before it was even November. She told me that
she’ll instruct her friend who lived in the nearby village to make me two
birthday cakes. Two birthday cakes!!. TWO BIRTHDAY CAKES!!. TWO GODDAMN
BIRTHDAY CAKES!!! I was super excited, so excited that my friends in class were
wondering what was going on with me. I would smile and grin all day in class,
rub my hands together in excitement and just nod my head to music that wasn't
even there. I had a really huge mouth, I’d often just blast it all out but to
date, that’s one thing they never learned about. As a matter of fact, most of
them will only get to know about the cakes here. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I remember sitting in class and feeling like I was afloat a very
beautiful valley of flowers and ponds with crystal water. II felt like a
floating male fairy if there's something like that. I did not even
concentrate in class weeks prior to my birthday. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKfzOB8rBoi0h5m_auMTzaW4E4ZgAdvoZMbkTICG_qDe6DHveJ1GCgtJqi3B0iROsZzMBvcTTWn3wCgbcYC5oInORkNIPDINT7sUnUAzSl1yE0CpD6oL71ml2pVgIkYXq-CnME_TbnuE/s1600/Cake+Scene.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKfzOB8rBoi0h5m_auMTzaW4E4ZgAdvoZMbkTICG_qDe6DHveJ1GCgtJqi3B0iROsZzMBvcTTWn3wCgbcYC5oInORkNIPDINT7sUnUAzSl1yE0CpD6oL71ml2pVgIkYXq-CnME_TbnuE/s640/Cake+Scene.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The wait was going really well
but I eventually grew tired and later, really frustrated. I was angry
that the lady, my mum's friend is just not bringing my cakes home. It
is not like she was going to make them for free, it is not like it was her
birthday, it is not like she was the one who invented yeast or sugar. I just
wanted my cakes!! </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I rushed home every single day
expecting to see two huge colorful cakes ready to be engulfed by my
sugar-hungry mouth. Instead, I just find bad news that the cakes are not there
yet. The “yet” actually gave me hope because I knew it was just a matter of
time and anyways, the cakes can take as long as they want. The longer they
took, the hungrier I got and that was perfectly fine with me as long as they
were not going to take forever. In the end, they were still going to come home
to me and endure the toughest 47 minutes of their existence. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I already had the plan, I will eat
the letters of my nam</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">e first, then I will eat the "Zero" from the
ten, then I will eat away all the bright colors, the "one", then I
embark on a "top to bottom" eating journey until I can see the bottom
of the platter. I ate those cakes a hundred times in my mind before I even got
them.</span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Come think of it, Mum didn't have
to tell me, after al she knew I loved cake so much I'd become a cake myself! I
eventually grew tired, I could no longer wait. Two days before my birthday, I
went to school and I knew, it was going to be a good day. Nothing was going to
make it any worse than the previous ones. I went to school knowing that I will
take a different route back home, if that lady is not going to bring the cakes,
I will go fetch them myself, it was my birthday after all. Just for clarity, I
asked mum in the morning, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Mum, is Mee Maria bringing the cakes today or not? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum: No she is not, she will bring them soon, don’t worry. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Don't worry? DON'T WORRY? Really Mum? I was already worried about
that lady not putting enough sugar in my cakes, I was worried about the cakes
being pint-sized when my mouth and tummy are the size of the Sahara Desert, I
was worried about you inviting other people to share my cakes, I was worried
about the cakes being different, making it difficult to choose which one to
have first, I was worried about all those things mum, the last thing I wanted
to worry about was "Am I even getting the cakes or not?" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Anyways, Mum’s answer was just perfect for my plans. She had no idea and
the lady baking my cakes, she wasn't ready either. She was never going to be
ready for my genius plan! I was damn sure their communication was a little bit
weak over the birthday cakes, none of them really laid down an exact deadline
except that it should be before or on my birthday. They had a plan, maybe, all
I had to do was to come up with a better plan. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">So I sat in class for the longest
six hours of my entire primary school life. I marveled to the idea of not only
any other cakes but two beautiful cakes. Two has never been such a beautiful
number than that day. Finally, after a fair enough long six hours of what
seemed to be the longest wait ever, the time was up, the wait was over; it was
time to unleash my planning powers. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">It was the moment of truth. I gave
my school bag to my cousin so he drops it home while I go “somewhere”. On
my way, I remember rehearsing my wording and facial expressions. The last thing
I wanted was me giving off any suspicious acts or any signals that will tip the
lady off that "Hol'up, this tiny guy right here is on an unapproved
mission!" </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">This plan could not fail, it just
could not NOT work. It had to, I needed it to be one those plans that are
straight out of a Hollywood movie. "move in and move out" </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> So I reached the Cake Lady’s place and I told myself,
"Stef, it is now or never".</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Uhm, *clearing throat*, Mum
told me to... err, *cough*, She told me to pick up the cakes.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Her: She did? Oh, I just finished them a few hours ago. I thought I’d
bring them myself.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Err *gulp*, but since I am already here, I guess I can just take
them.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Her: Okay great, I hope you won’t drop them. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I found
it a bit funny, I mean Hello, *Rolling eyes* the only way I will ever drop a
cake is if it has to drop in my mouth. <span style="background: white;">She
handed me the box with the two cakes. And it was surprisingly light. I expected
bigger cakes, not that I was disappointed, I probably just thought cakes
are really heavy. In the end, Cakes are just big blocks of heaven pieces
coated in sugar and cream. </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I set off home, a journey that
seemed to go on forever. I carried the two cakes without stopping to even sniff
or look at them. I almost reached home though. I think I made like half the
journey. The plan was to reach home without stopping but, I think I was just
weak again. I had this weird feeling like, there I was, carrying two big
birthday cakes home. There was just something that was not so right, and then I
knew, BAMM, its exactly the whole idea of taking the cakes home without looking
at them or even better “just tasting” them. "What is the worst that
could happen? It is not like I am going to kill anybody or something, I am
just going to taste my birthday cakes. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">So I stopped in this other tree just besides the path, not so far from
home. I knelt beside the majestic cake box and took a deep breath, I opened the
box and there they were. My two beautiful blue and white birthday cakes were starring
right back at me. It was definitely love at first site. I suddenly
developed a deep hunger for cake. Nature is funny sometimes. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I could almost hear the ancestors call on my name together with Santa,
urging me to “taste” the cake. I closed my eyes and extended my index finger. I
could almost feel my muscles expand as my finger gets closer and closer to the
cake. And then the cake and my finger met. Holly molly!! I felt a rush of blood
through my body, my heart skipped a beat and my arms were covered in
Goosebumps. It was a revelation; cake and I were meant for each other. I
brought my finger to my mouth and I immediately knew that picking up the cakes
wasn't after all the worst mistake of my life, no. Tasting them was the worst!
What did I just do to myself? How was I ever supposed to stop myself? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I gnawed
away on the cake. I didn't realize what I was doing until both cakes had huge
chunks missing from them. I was left with almost two thirds of each cake, when
I decided to be a good boy and close the box. My face was covered with
sugar and cream, my hands all sticky but my heart, so relieved. I needed
that "Me" time. I needed that encounter with my two
beautiful cakes. I got up and went home and that's when reality hit me, I
needed to explain what happened to the cakes. Was I worried? Well, at 9 years
and about 364 days, I thought I was a genius and my plan was going to work out
just fine. This is how it played out:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Hi
Mum, Mee Maria gave me the cakes to bring them myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum: Oh
hi, she came to you at school?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Nope,
I went to her house to get some water, I was thirsty, then she said I must take
the cakes along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum: So
you were thirsty and you decided to go to her place for some water?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Yes,
she said hi to you. *<i>holding my hands together behind my back, to pull off
some honest posture*</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum: Oh
Okay. *she begun to open the box*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: I am
going to see the goats. <i>[I was already panicking, my excuses were becoming
so lame and I knew I was about to be in real trouble]</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum:
Wait, why are the cakes eaten?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Huh?
What?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum:
Don't what me, did you eat the cakes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum:
Should I go and ask mee Maria how the cakes looked like when she gave them to
you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Me: I
told her to make them in that shape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum:
-__________- <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">She was
MAD!! There I was, her little cute son with his face all sticky with sugar and
cream. I was hoping she'll agree that I was too cute to scold but she didn't
even have time to scold me, she just waited for the next day and dished out the
remains of my cakes to my big sister and small sister. I felt so horrible but
deep down I knew, all I had to do was to wait another day. Just one more day
and all would have been gone well. I could not redeem myself, I could not
un-eat the cake. At that moment when I looked at my sisters eating cake and all
I had to do was breath, I felt like a part of me was being taken away from me.
I felt like a huge cave that only cake can fill was developing within me. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I felt so bad!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91xHgQod-xwUb9HJK2Q3fzLr5b_Qs9b3fg2yt6zBUSV8iVanmF1MhLJgn9-j1xxghKZF0kZ6188PGC5g2V3a1WFsxjE6XDZEMR20mWwAhDiUxskUyxPczskfaUrQb4hHdjh-ngitLdqY/s1600/Guilty+two..png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91xHgQod-xwUb9HJK2Q3fzLr5b_Qs9b3fg2yt6zBUSV8iVanmF1MhLJgn9-j1xxghKZF0kZ6188PGC5g2V3a1WFsxjE6XDZEMR20mWwAhDiUxskUyxPczskfaUrQb4hHdjh-ngitLdqY/s640/Guilty+two..png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I literally felt so guilty, even started sweating!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMH-KXFGovKI37FCGKE6XqfHhiTr_r9rlJzrF9ZLkq5eHsNqVOvoPaqBTpr5S8uy7elOyNLl4DjvVAjDD5NbVdyMMSnKElx6NU3huQrCA7EMUETgaGg2sdWMdztoGPmnT8Nnl8m26zw8c/s1600/Guilty+three.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMH-KXFGovKI37FCGKE6XqfHhiTr_r9rlJzrF9ZLkq5eHsNqVOvoPaqBTpr5S8uy7elOyNLl4DjvVAjDD5NbVdyMMSnKElx6NU3huQrCA7EMUETgaGg2sdWMdztoGPmnT8Nnl8m26zw8c/s640/Guilty+three.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I just ended up crying!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum
looked at me and I tried to strike a really "Cake deprived pose and look*,
I think she got impressed because she eventually gave me a slice and they still
sang happy birthday for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Mum, even
though you made me go through the worst 30 minutes of my life when I had to
watch you and my siblings eat cake without me, I just want to tell you that I
love you because you told that lady to make me two cakes, you knew very well
that one cake wouldn't last 10 minutes especially that my big sister loves cake
too. And to the lady, who made my cakes, you may never get to read this but I
just hope that your cake making skills are still super!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">HAPPY
BIRTHDAY TO ME! I WISH MYSELF MANY MORE HAPPY AND BLESSED BIRTHDAYS, MAY GOD
BLESS ME AND HELP ME DISCOVER PLACES WITH CHEAP CAKES. Haha, Okay yes that was crazy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Follow me on Twitter, @StefanMutileni</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Cheers.
:) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-12529505353871312952015-10-15T06:31:00.002-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.379-07:00Girlfriend number 1 and Girlfriend number 2. I was 10 years old when I got my first girlfriend who didn't know we are dating until two years later! Yes, two years later! In those two years, I wrote her so many letters that if someone chose to publish them, I will have to call the World bank to fund the printing. And yes, none of those letters were submitted. None of them, not until I somehow got confident enough to slip one in her school bag and go home feeling like I just committed a serious felony. Did I miss school the next day? Of course I did. <br />
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I think my childhood was pretty normal for a boy who just want love but his confidence and his ambitions were in a serious tug of war. Let's be honest, I tried. I mean, I made sure that I didn't look suspicious, that was good enough. Girlfriend number 1 was a beautiful chubby short girl, she was a sprinter and she was the typical Oshakati breed, she discussed the famous Soapies of those days and she always had the latest type of colour pencils in class. She was the first one to come in class with that flexible pencil and her school bag was those ones with like 100 other smaller pockets with huge zips. She was the one.<br />
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And me? Well, I was the smart but very shy boy with the back to school stationeries and always had to borrow a sharpener from his best friend. She was mine though, I didn't care that she didn't know, as long as my close friends knew, I was happy with it. When the teacher divided the class in groups of Four and she and I end up in the same group, I blushed so much you could swear a bucket of purple paint fell on my cheeks. My huge smile was all lit like a hungry pelican.<br />
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Now you are all probably praying I tell you who the mysterious Beau was. Well, after 14 years, I can finally admit that yes I had a huge crush on Magano. Oh man I had to set aside my ego here. So that was girlfriend number 1 who didn't know that we were dating until I wrote her a letter in grade 6 and oh yes we dated from a distance. Someone should have told me that being co-class captains didn't necessarily mean that you two need to go out with each other. To make matters worse, Mum actually discovered one of the best letters I ever wrote, she found it in my shirt when she was doing laundry and oh boy did I have her and her sisters laughing at me for years. that letter never even got delivered. Poor Magano never got to see the rose I drew with her colour pencils that she borrowed me for the weekend. Did we ever got to break up? Well, realistically yes, but it took a while for us to get divorced in my mind though.<br />
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So that was it about girlfriend number 1. Now there was girlfriend number 2. Frankly speaking, I never told this story before and it is for one reason, the whole shape after all the dots came together. LOL. So I had this friend, my sisters friend who told me that his sister likes me so much and he thought it'd be good that I wrote her a letter. So I did, me being a Champ when it comes to love letters, I took a page from my Social studies note book (because the social study teacher was never going to find out), and I wrote that letter on an A4 sheet. I was so straight to the point this time, no funny things like "I see your face in the stars" No. Uh uuh. I wrote in simple terms that I wanted her to be my girlfriend, klar. Fertig. Finitura. Terminar. Acabado. My friend, that was it! FINITO!!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63hqxEzBANw7A9Kq5DeTjdAPVeQSRfsD2kjG9PD5rBOLvkp4gsiYGwxEFNBcwhzmLBllP6y-q_VzAqAoRsCafzOXhaF-xHKUXbC0ozA9cdRurqsQOgVHNCpp3Vpjs0hQ9SSrpRPLdDVQ/s1600/two.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63hqxEzBANw7A9Kq5DeTjdAPVeQSRfsD2kjG9PD5rBOLvkp4gsiYGwxEFNBcwhzmLBllP6y-q_VzAqAoRsCafzOXhaF-xHKUXbC0ozA9cdRurqsQOgVHNCpp3Vpjs0hQ9SSrpRPLdDVQ/s400/two.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I didn't have to tell her a lot of stuff. I folded that letter neatly and gave it to my friend the next day to hand it over. There was one problem though. He told me that he was not going to deliver it unless I promise to hand over a letter that he wrote to my big sister. I thought for a moment and made up my mind, I will deliver his letter. A love letter as I thought. I handed him my letter to take to his small sister. What did I have to fear? I mean I already heard how she was dying to be my "one and only". I had a very nervous day though, I mean I saw her at school and she didn't show any signs of being troubled or being uneasy with me at al so I made two conclusions. She either did not get the letter yet or she got it but she did not read it yet.</div>
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So after school, I waited for my friend at the spot we agreed on, it was not so far from school so after a few minutes of what felt like a hundred years, he turned up and told me that I should just bring my sister's reply the next day so he give me the letter that his sister wrote back to me. No probleeemoo. That night, I saw my sister burn down the love letter and told me to tell my friend (her classmate by the way) that she isn't interested. LOL. Next day I told him so and he, with sadness, handed me my letter. I read it and BINGO, she said YES!!!! I was over the heels. I didn't know how to handle the excitement though but oh boy I was so excited I actually felt so alive!<br />
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I then did what another 11 year old would do, I told all my boys. I told the squad. I let them in on the topic that I won the finest girl in the village. I am "Thee Man". And guess what my fellow 11 year olds and 10 year olds went to do after that without telling me, they went to ask her. And to their surprise and my shock, she knew NOTHING about a letter from me, she didn't write any letter to me, she was not planning to write any! I almost fainted because "Girlfriend" came and confronted me with her girls!! I was paraded all the way home with all sorts of girly shouts. I was hurt but oh yes credit to his ingenuity. LOL.<br />
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This is an experience that made me hate my sister's friend. This guy has proven that you don't need to have a good GPA score, you don't need to go to Harvard, you don't even have to invent anything to exercise your levels of intellect. All you need to do is make sure that you are the smartest among your lot. How? Hang with the people who are either less smarter than you are, or more dumb that you are. This guy was my friend. I was the dumb one and he really got the best of me. Well this is what happened with girlfriend number 2 who I dated for about a day when she didn't know that I was her cute little puppy.<br />
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Since then, I have learned to do things myself. XD<br />
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Follow me on twitter, @StefanMutileniBlue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-86029130789460319412015-09-25T05:56:00.003-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.882-07:00My Graduation Speech<br />
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I always said that I will download my Graduation Speech from the Internet. I never imagined that instead, I will SAVE it on the internet! The internet doesn't forget, not as often... except that one time when it forgot to press the "Make him famous" button when it got to my name. Now I have to call Mum and tell her that she must not worry about my nerves and my weak knees, I will just pop up here and print this out when I next go for graduation.</div>
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Who would have thought I'd use this platform to save my graduation speech for future use and re-use? Just who? I will just keep editing the name of the University / Teknion and the name of the qualification. I don't have to use a different name for the Lecturers because I am most probably going to choose a very cunning name for them. </div>
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I think the speech is very important. More important than the costume but obviously not more important than the middle finger that I will pull on my haters as I walk out of the hall like a Super-Hero leaving a room full off fallen ninjas. I will definitely also make sure that I come with a Parrot to sit on my shoulder and translate to those small birds left in nests by their mothers. You never know, maybe there will be some. nature has weird ways of surprising us. So legooooooo..... *I am excited*</div>
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"Thanks to the statistics in the graduation guide because when I tried to count the number of people in this hall, I got three million, five hundred and thirty four thousand, two hundred and sixty nine. I will not be a bad guy now to sue my mathematics' Lecturer for the past four years, it won't be fair after all the lies I told him when I missed his class. Again, I am not good with faces so I may have counted more ladies than there are. Sorry to the dudes without beards, these black long dress makes you look like ladies, no offense. </div>
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It is great to see all my college ex girlfriends in this hall with me today. We made it together, cheers to the freaking broken relationships. It was a relief to break up with you all but it is not better anyways, this is probably the last time we will ever buy French fries for Ten bucks and a Hot Dog for eight bucks. Life is funny. it is also very difficult to bear with the fact that NSFAF representatives are on the list to later give us a speech of how we must pay back the loans and all that painful information. I would like to thank all the other companies who could not give me a Bursary though but they made it here today to see me graduate.</div>
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lets give credit where it is due, </div>
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***leaves podium***</div>
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I would like to give special thanks to Samsung and Google Inc. for the efforts in manufacturing my lap top and allowing the search of information, respectively. There has never been any other better service in aiding my studies. To the ladies who sell junkies and beef curry with huge onion chunks under the bridge, to the guys who sell the thirty cents sweets but never gave me my ten cents change when I got three for a Dollar, to the kids who always had enough printing credit and the love and care to give me their Passwords so I print my plagiarized assignments, you are all part of this. </div>
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***Holding up certification award*** </div>
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Four years, a shitload of assignments, exams, tutorials and the gruesome hours I spend in the workshop for my project, I finally get this. This, this is what you get when you go to school for four years and sit your broke ass in class for 9 hours everyday. A paper pulp dried and printed to make this nice looking piece of A4 document with my name on it but this my friend, this I will use to hit people in the faces when they want to look down on me. So thanks for making it just a little harder than the 1 dollar toilet paper that I had to use for four long years as if I don't pay tuition. </div>
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To my beloved Lecturers, stay strong. Don't despair that I had to finish and leave, instead pray for me. Like I have always prayed to God that you don't catch me copying cause then you would have had heart attacks. Thank you very much for this ***Looks at the Rector***, Sir, your socks are showing, they were not supposed to show. </div>
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I have to leave the hall and find a job now, ain't no body got time to be broke and unemployed. Adios, </div>
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***give the peace salute and fold certification into a small piece of paper, puts it into the back pocket***</div>
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My speech will not get lost here.<br />
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Follow me on: <br />
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Twitter: @pieMysterious<br />
Instagram: @pieMysterious<br />
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lets go and get those Degrees!!! <br />
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<br />Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-64661952013724549212015-09-17T02:29:00.000-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.732-07:00Drinking Red Bull is MAGIC!!Hold up. If you thought Hecate the ancient Greek magician Goddess or that Criss Angel and David Blaine are the magic gurus, then you have no idea because I have just discovered the greatest magic trick of all time. Picture this, you have to stay up to study for an exam that will have questions unanswered from 1800s, you need to stay up to entertain "girlfriend", you have to somehow take your chances for staying up just one night to discover aliens in case they show up and most of all, something I personally never got used to, waking up in the morning to go to work. All that can be summed up in one major requirement, <strong>you have to stay up and keep your energy levels high</strong>.<br />
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However you do it, none of the above mentioned magicians can help you in that, Santa always come close with the kids but on contrary, he must sneak up to the kids so the kids must always nap and hope to find candies and all sorts of sweet stuff stashed up in the rooms. <br />
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Long story short, just drink RED BULL and see what magic is. I tell you what, I am typing this at the speed of four words per second, at this rate, I could write 345 600 words in just one day. That's a big number, I could convince Meek Mills and Drake to move into one three bedroom flat with just half of those words. I am like the Jeepers Creepers of energy when I take just four Red Bulls, imagine now what happened last night when I took three more because they were relatively cheap compared to coke and one extra one for control? That's <strong>EIGHT</strong> in total! I was like Chuck Norris at his best and every other activity was as easy as drinking water. <br />
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00:45, I was so energetic and so awake that I could not even blink, I could literally mind punch Floyd Mayweather and fly above the Eifel Tower using a rhythmic flap of my ears. I was buzzing with so much energy, I could feel large amounts of Kilowatts of Power moving from my head to my toe nails. I was like an electric eel ready to pounce on a poor fish. Just about midnight, I was unfortunately done with all my plans and I ticked off every single task that was on my list, I started procrastinating on sleep, knowing very well that I was a human barrel of Red Bull. I was praying in my heart that my metabolism should bail me out. I was pumped up with almost 4 litres of that magic energy drink. and not even the 101 push ups I did could make me observe the slightest and tiniest drop of sweat.<br />
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01:56, I was in deep trouble. the amount of energy from the drinks, coupled with the 100g of cheese that I gulped down like baby Hippo salvaged from a drying pan, all that combined in my barely 65Kg body was like pure chaos. I needed my sleep. The mind screamed YEEEEEEES, the body screamed back NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I watched Extreme Sports, fear factor, Terminator and read a Shakespeare publication but still, I could not drop my eye lids a single millimetre. I even drank cold water with hope of neutralising the levels of Red Bull in my body but that drink was determined to keep me up. <br />
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02:47, I clearly needed help. Like a Whale doing a flip, I jolted out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror. My lean body didn't quite reflect a true image of how I felt like because the mirror was showing a body like Sheldon but I sure felt like Rambo. I needed to use my energy to some good cause so I came up with a plan, I am going to rearrange my room! I started off with moving my bed away from the centre of the room because I sleep with my lights on and when I close my eyes, the light right above my bed irritates me so much. I didn't even think light would travel through my eye lids to my eyes! I moved the fridge without and rearranged it too, bringing the milk and cheese where I can easily access them and taking the rest of the stuff right at the back. I arranged the pile of coins on my desk and calculated them, to my surprise, I didn't even make 5NAD yet!<br />
Finally, I changed my pillow cases, this is like the toughest job I have ever done in my years of living alone. <br />
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03:59, It is almost 04:00 and the neighbour's dog will start barking in exactly one hour, I really needed to sleep. I could not hold back my shame and disappointment anymore, how could I?? If only I didn't test the energy drink's ability. With shame, I slotted in my bed and found my comfortable spot, I closed my eyes and promised myself I will stop my thinking and just doze off. Three minutes in bed and I am already thinking of September 11, why Bobby Shmurda should do a song with Jay Z and how Pythagora must have been some huge guy with a thick beard and very thick eye brows. I was on terrestrial journeys my dear. <br />
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05:00, I don't even know why I am not mad. My new clock's alarm went off. Yes, in a rather sarcastic tune, it buzzed and galloped all over my desk singing "Its a beautiful day for pie!", inspired by Peter Griffin. I hit the "silence" button and starring at the ceiling with my head resting on my hands, I spoke in a fine but really annoyed tone, "RED BULL IS MAGIC". I will never ever, I mean NEVER EVER drink Red Bull again. not even if I become part of the Red Bull racing team. But if you want to experience the mind blogging energy levels and feel your toe nails cut through your socks, you have my blessings.<br />
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<br />Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-45143362613703507932015-09-16T04:42:00.003-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.590-07:00My relationship with my clock fell through<br />
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Have you ever loved someone so much that you just can’t make it to work
on time without that particular sweetheart? Or that she is always the reason
you are seated in church before the pastor? Looking all holy and smelling like
a five hundred acre of roses, with your shoes shiny as a clear calm sea and
your tie so perfect that paparazzi will not take photos for the fear of messing
it up with the vibrations caused by the camera flash? Well, if you can imagine
such privileges in your life because of someone, I and you are on the same
boat. The only difference is that mine is… rather was a clock. A beautiful Chinese
make (no name), red round clock. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I still miss her tick tock in my silent room as I woke up feeling
myself. We were like Romeo and Juliet; we had a relationship that Santa would
have told angels on his way back to heaven. We were like inseparable, but that’s
all history now because I sued that stupid clock and now she is serving a
lifetime in my suitcase, without batteries and her hands of time, all frozen up
like a malfunctioned time machine. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Why? Cause that stupid hobo just made me miss my bus to work! Why am I even
mad? You are all probably asking yourself, well, because after missing he bus
that I pay 400NAD every month, I actually made a loss of 13.33NAD, missed seeing
the beautiful Damara girl who always seat at the back in the corner with her
earphone pressed against her ear drums, made it one hour late at work, had my
coffee late (very terrible situation), had a bad day thinking how on earth she
could not let that alarm go off (this brought me a little depression) and to
top it all, had my boss mocking me about the whole experience.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Not in my life was I ever late with one whole hour! I have always been
so early, since birth. I was born 3 months early (family record) and I was the
first in my family to actually not have a photo taken at my first birthday. No
one can break this record. So for me to be one hour late doesn’t only make me
look stupid but it completely confuses the whole “early Stefan” legacy that stood
for 23 years. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">For all these offences, I had no choice but to demote her. Now I just
rely on the neighbour’s dog, that dog always start barking at 05:00, I don’t
know if it hates some poor guy who always passes by that time or it is
completely gone insane. Maybe it even barks at some aliens as they return to
their spaceship just before we wake up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-70410826721265954242015-09-11T05:53:00.001-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.753-07:00Guide to surviving a shopping experience with girls<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who is not excited about going shopping? Everybody is excited, except if
you are the other guy wearing his “I can do it smile”, flanked by four girls.
Then in that case, you are in more trouble than a turtle turned on his back.
You should be afraid. I won’t even feel sorry for you, instead, I will pray
that a fairy comes and rescue you from that torture. I went shopping with my
four small sisters a few weeks back and for the past week, I reflected on the
traumatising event and I just had to share with ya’ll out there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One girl already has the shopping flair to make you rip out your throat
from growling with impatience and the urge to make her realise that you can’t
walk 500miles in one day. Even Matt Galland (@mattinthewild) and his two
adventure maniacs can’t do 500 Miles in a day, let alone just a simple dude
with earphones stuck in his ears and a 1 year old beard? You need to follow my
guide on how to exceptionally, successfully and effectively go shopping with
four girls because it is an endurance game my brother; it is a “waiting for a
miracle” game. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gCfLepmhspRzwe_wYCqqSQVU70IJNK8j0e1UuCXvqSxTqskI8vr0r-qphC_MsQLZ_dh79i0VAWO091X8Wl3K4xB9xHc4efJuTYTE2YzjyWpwxIKJCVHiUuUG_BlTEJ-l9-_4XCOy79E/s1600/thCAY27QDU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gCfLepmhspRzwe_wYCqqSQVU70IJNK8j0e1UuCXvqSxTqskI8vr0r-qphC_MsQLZ_dh79i0VAWO091X8Wl3K4xB9xHc4efJuTYTE2YzjyWpwxIKJCVHiUuUG_BlTEJ-l9-_4XCOy79E/s400/thCAY27QDU.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The first thing you need to ensure is actually to not go shopping with
any girl at all. Just don’t do it, it’s a trap. It’s a set up to hurt your
soul. Girls only invite guys for shopping because it is legal compared to
torturing someone with razors or subjecting them to surgery without
anaesthetics. Only setback with not going, or worse, turning her down is that
you’ll be labeled as the most awful and horribly stinking worst guy in the
history human existence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who wants to be the worst guy to ever walk the face of the Earth? Even
Billy the Kid must’ve somehow felt guilty. Chances that you will have to accept
that invitation are so high that if you turn her down, the whole world will
know because that is like eighteen times bigger than Gerolamo Cardano’s 1545
foundation and implementation of the quadratic equation. Don’t be stupid, you
have to go. Don’t be like those other kids who though Ebola is some guy from
the Al Qaeda.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like a Navy Seal getting ready to dive, you have to get your body and
mind ready. It is not going to be a normal day. It will be a day of highs for
the girls and major lows for you. So I recommend that you keep eating healthy
and working out, because you never know when that invitation is going to hit
you in the face like a Torpedo. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the day of that invitation, you will probably wake up with a feeling
that something so bad is going to happen. You won’t know exactly what but you
will feel a change in the whole atmosphere, like how fish acts when an
earthquake is about to hit. When one of them walks up to you with her sly smile
and beautiful pale cheeks, you will obviously smile down at her cute face
expecting something good, until she goes like, “You mind coming with us for
shopping today? Please?” Don’t be fooled by the kind question, it is an order and
you have no choice. It is game over. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4g_aaVqS1DnE5I30gCwQCx5aXVS30sR0881OEFrQkangne253k_-q5UqWgdsKMSFVUed_CEjQxztsQpzJRUyUThRdYxnhsMgHaR3IGPs9wIIrGOKlF5StS6_fpLr2QgTezC1MTF5Z0Hg/s1600/thCA52WYS2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4g_aaVqS1DnE5I30gCwQCx5aXVS30sR0881OEFrQkangne253k_-q5UqWgdsKMSFVUed_CEjQxztsQpzJRUyUThRdYxnhsMgHaR3IGPs9wIIrGOKlF5StS6_fpLr2QgTezC1MTF5Z0Hg/s400/thCA52WYS2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even for the fact that we give an assumption on the girls going to spend
their own money, yours isn’t safe either so the first thing you need to do is a
crush budget plan. You better get your dimes straight cause at every ice-cream
parlor you pass by, it will make a tiny hole in your annual budget. One thing
is very important, text a friend, male friend to be specific. Tell him to be on
standby because you may need to be rescued when the girls finally hit the Kim
Kardashian conversation topic and the only thing you know about Kim is her butt
that seem to be hunted down by Paparazzi wherever she goes. You will need to
talk about football and cars so you better have your thumb on the dial pad in
case you get to breaking point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tell yourself that, “it is going to be alright.” Well, this is more like
psychology. We all know it’s a wrap, you not going to be alright buddy, you are
going to be in shreds by the second hour but just to instill that “I can do it”
spirit, you’ll need to go through that ritual with yourself, just say it. Ask
them questions; find out what exactly they are going to buy. Be ready to
receive a list of all that Hem Matsi has ever thought of designing, and all
that has ever gone trending on the streets in Johannesburg. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The idea is to make sure that whatever they mention, they do not include
shoes. I know what I am talking about here because I once went shopping with my
friend in Rothenburg ob der Tauber in Germany and oh boy did we spend two days
in one shoe shop. I tell you what, there isn't a more complex and whirlwind
situation like a having shoes and a girl in one shop.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If they mention anything related to a shoe shop, just fake death. Just
drop dead on the ground and hold your breath for as long as they can freak out
and call 911. Don’t worry with hurting your head as you drop at 9.81m/s on the
ground, trust me, it is much better that accepting an invitation to go shoe
shopping. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Create a 72 hour playlist and remember to include Alone by Celine Dion,
Ryan Kirkland and perhaps throw in one from Heavy K just to reserve it for the
moment when the girls walk up to a shop and realise it is closed, you will need
to celebrate that moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Download a map of your town and the four nearby towns in all four major
directions. You will also need a floor plan from the architectural company that
designed the target location (Suggested mall/complex, often just bate). This is
very important because girls may find their way out of the complex, they always
do, but you will need to locate yourself in case the apocalypse hits while you
are still in the maze.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Get hiking shoes that are one size bigger because you may spend your
whole life shopping with the girls. Trust me on this one, girls can say they
are going to buy a hat and next thing you know, they are covering an area the
size of Australia and buying all sorts of stuff that the cotton and silk
industry has ever produced.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Call your boss and take leave. Call in sick in advance. I don’t have to
explain this. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take razors and After-Shave lotion with you. Girls will go shopping for
like 25 years so you need to keep your face in check, you don’t want to end up
looking like Captain Jack Sparrow. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take your passport with you. Girls can say they are going shopping at
Wernhil, next thing you know, they want to check out these other shoes in some
shops in New York City. Don’t even think that he flight prices will save you.
Girls can fly from Windhoek to Cape Town for N$7500,00 just to buy shoes and a
scarf that costs R299,00. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take protein supplements and vitamins. Why? Girls will go shopping for
two straight decades and only have two Ice Creams. You don’t want to start
looking like you have never eaten since the days of JFK so you better go on that
mission like a man going into space. Pack it all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lastly and this is probably the most important point, wear as many
clothes as you can. This is not only to make sure that you have a supply of
clothes for the whole experience that may last all four seasons but also that
they will be discouraged to make you try on the jeans and shirts that they may
want to get for their boyfriends. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I know why girls take men for shopping, it is because shopping is
cheaper than a psychiatrist. Until next time when you have survived the
Shopping Spree, we will probably meet on an island, you are probably going to
be with your boyfriends and girlfriends and I am going to be that guy with a
vintage camera and a skew hairline, making your whole beach experience awkward
with my hairy chest and transparent boxers. @StefanMutileni on twitter, at your
service.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-15985302361698944002015-09-04T07:08:00.001-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.433-07:00The Good and the Bad of Insomnia<div class="MsoNormal">
If you never heard about me or seen me on TV or on some cool T Shirt or on a Bill Board, its probably because I have never been on any of those ones. Well, I am that other
person who hardly agrees to the science of the rotation of the earth around the
sun. But I will travel to Mexico by raft and literally hike through the
thickest forests to prove that Aliens do exist and that I am the real Big Foot.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lately I have been
trying to compile an A4 page of explanations as to why staying up late is
actually better than going to Disneyland and riding the roller-coasters with 8
year old kids just in case they take selfies with their iPhones (On selfie
sticks, and you photobomb them. I made it to just over one quarter of the page.
I didn’t know that font size 45 was that small. I don’t care though, I am going
to explain it anyways, just because I could not do it while staying up does not
mean I can’t during day time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b>1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">
</span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Chance to discover Aliens first<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Staying
up actually means you have the chance to be one of the few people to discover
the aliens and have your name written in history books, forever. Why not? After
all, I do not think aliens will storm into a town during the day, chances are
probably that they are photophobic and they probably see better in the night. I
literally stay up each night and wait for an alienitical series of sounds and
whistles so I pop my head through my window like, “Hey Aliens, do not fear
anything, I won’t harm a fly” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b>2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">
</span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Guarding your half eaten dinner meal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
We
all have that one housemate who just won’t go to bed at 22:00 and get up at
06:00 the next day, that one person who will always get up at 01:15 to make
sure that all the food left over after dinner is all gulped up and shovelled in
his big mouth. I call them the Human Bears. Staying up at night means you have
better chances of busting that pathetic trend and if we can minimise it, this
habit will die down and it will go in extinction. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b>3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">
</span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Checking that no one adjusts your alarm
clock from 06:00 to 07:00<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
I
don’t know any other worse feeling than waking up one hour late. Not leaving
the house one hour late, no, WAKING UP ONE HOUR LATE. I lose my mind and probably
shout more than The Dogg has ever done on He He He. I jump and throw my shoes
all over the room and once I actually wrestled my alarm clock and did a Mike
Tyson bite on it. You don’t want any naughty housemate to adjust your alarm
clock fam, it sucks big time and if you stay up at night, you actually
eliminate any of such crappy manners.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b>4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">
</span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Getting fresh crispy and raw news<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Remember
that dude who had a tapeworm? Well, my aunt (she doesn’t stay up) apparently
was told that there is a man in the south who gave birth to a baby snake. From tapeworm
to snake real fast! I tell you what, people can edit the news, photos and even
their eye brows so next time you want to take your ‘being informed” being seriously,
better stay up at night cause a tiny innocent fly can just pass a certain house
and next thing you know, a fish eating alien has been spotted in some fancy
hotel in Goreagab Dam. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<b>Disadvantages
of insomnia</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
So
far, I only discovered one disadvantage of staying up late at night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
>>>>>Watching
American Football<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Okay
let’s face it, I am not saying the sport is bad, I just find it really funny
that I can’t watch two seconds of it and not hurt my lungs. The same way I kind
of watch rugby and I am like, seriously now? I watched two seconds of American
football and I am like please stop, stop, STAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP. I mean
seriously now, those guys are wearing very tight spandex pants. SO this other
guy gets the ball and runs very fast across the field in his shiny costume and
shirt, then all the other guys of the opposite team also in spandex pants tries
to catch him (just catch the ball guys, catch the ball). I don’t want my kids
growing up watching any of that gay shit. Why don’t we just stick to Football
and keep supporting Mourinho even when he jumps on The Team doctor? Okay I am
done. Have a nice weekend ya’ll. Do not fornicate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Don’t
take my take on American football too serious, I hate people who catch feelings
too fast. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
Follow
me on Twitter @pieMysterious <o:p></o:p></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-5720683147407270072015-08-12T08:21:00.004-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.666-07:00Lets become Anger Management Champions. So here I am writing about anger management. A few minutes prior to writing this, I waited and waited and waited for that "Straight Outta Somewhere" link to fully load so that I write with pride, "Okatana". I literally grew a mustache while waiting for the keyboard to pop up on my phone. I also think some poor insect specie in the amazon also went into extinction while I wait for that link to just load. It is all I wanted. While waiting, I realised I was starting to clench my left fist and I chew rather harder and faster on my bubblegum. My My body tensed and I could feel my energy rise to unfavorable levels. I was clearly starting to lose my temper.<br />
<br />
Lately, we've ad cases of Men killing their girlfriends, someone shooting 9 times after his car was bumped. Just in case you can't quite figure why nine times is just so a lot, let me give you a demonstration; Vroom Vroom, BAMMM!!! Oh, $hiiiaaatttt!! bkgfhbbcj!!!! CLICK! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Now that is something you need to think of. This guy fired nine times, he was probably not angry before the shooting but, he was definitely angry during the shooting. It shows just how much we as humans can be pushed to our limits until if not managed well, we snap and all hell break loose.<br />
<br />
I read a lot of negative comments about such incidents, I don't mean to say that is all there is, of course there are positives too. I really just want to put an emphasis on something that I feel is overlooked and less considered, understandably by the law but quite not so understandably, by us the society, anger. This is not to imply that we should have the acceptance that such incidents should happen, no. This is to say yes it can happen but we can work on ourselves so that when we are caught in the same loops, we will hop out safely.<br />
<br />
I believe in the expressions of feelings, just the same way we need to express our rather good and all snuggly snuggly feelings like love and affection, we also need to express anger, frustrations and other feelings that makes us look more uglier than we already are. Why? Well, because feelings are (like) a form of energy and this is energy that will less likely do us good if contained within and not converted to speech. Seriously, I think Einstein would be happy to hear this. I am not a psychologist or medical Doctor, so I am quite interested in hearing what exactly happens to and in our minds to be specific, when we are just about to get angry. I can by the way give my insights on the obvious that is perhaps not too much of common sense to everybody.<br />
<br />
Think of the crazy Mathematics definition of an Asymptotic line; In lame terms, it is a line that you can come very close next to, but you can not touch it. You can come as close as possible, to an extend that it looks like you are actually rubbing shoulders with this line but in fact, graphically, you are not. I like to imagine such a situation in getting pissed off, losing temper or just getting to that point when you are almost on the verge of jumping off the bridge or back slapping your mate but because you did not cross the red line, you somehow just "let it go". This scenario when exercised efficiently can sure make us maybe not happy people, but good enough, not people who will regret what they said or what they did in times when they failed to control their anger.<br />
<br />
Lets put the scenarios into more practical terms then. I think, we can assign levels to our thoughts, high energy levels and low energy levels. Our thoughts can be traced and located to a point in space at any time, lets call this the local point (Black dot). We can assign a field around the local point and call it the local field (Light-blue circle). Just like the "logical" assumptions done in Calculus, we are also going to assume that there can never be middle ground in this state of mind.<br />
<br />
One can argue that sometimes our thoughts wander off into space and we are not really aware of what is going on around us, or we just think so deep that we stare and someone so hard, just because we are on some terrestrial concentration type of state. So to accommodate that, lets assume that our local point has another twin local point that represents our conscious thinking (Green dot). This twin local point has to constantly follow the main local point to keep us in the loop hole, to keep us aware of our own surrounding, our own actions and to filter out the nasty words for us. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNDyYvBMgBaJE5EHsMWMmq5r-IO6QxxwXMYaaHrhGG0SdeK3ElyttZTOWWmU9igWUQWahRlTlKG8OsbNQleXuizzwTxCxFIwMS225Jx_reWukqfz8KFEDa9yPR-0loBY9m_C-r-QK0hQ/s1600/Levels.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNDyYvBMgBaJE5EHsMWMmq5r-IO6QxxwXMYaaHrhGG0SdeK3ElyttZTOWWmU9igWUQWahRlTlKG8OsbNQleXuizzwTxCxFIwMS225Jx_reWukqfz8KFEDa9yPR-0loBY9m_C-r-QK0hQ/s640/Levels.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
So what is standard in life? What is the normal way of human social behavior? We don't know, in fact we may never reach a conclusion in some of such discussions. But we have a mind that is able to sense what is right and wrong, we have codes e live by in acceptance, maybe some in denial, we have culture and we have rules and regulations that the Governments have put n place. In the above diagram, we can hopefully all agree that we all want to be in the top right corner. Why? We are excited, we are energetic and this is happiness.<br />
<br />
So back to the local point, the local point has a sphere of locations that it can be traced to, it wander all around that sphere as per our feelings. It is rather difficult to speak in we so let me use I. When I get angry, my thought's local point immediately tries to get close and over the High energy line. I may or may not find the right state of mind to make decisions in this situation and if my local point moves with speeds that exceeds my sane mind abilities, this is when I grab my phone and hit it int he wall, punch the poor fellow or even grab a gun and shoot nine times, such sad things. I believe that most of those insane acts are carried out in times when our twin point doesn't keep up with the local point and thus, we are not REALLY aware of what we are doing. This is common in times when we later ask ourselves, what just happened??? That is a situation I never want to be in.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByOGZ_DBNVciJt3jrL0CP5YPgUf7se2G24lD1vEeNrYItIluAmGAnGissDq58PyJiZCkGe18Tg2dX1qZeUPVRYWwtm8SF0SaIc_Zygm4zLvyXVQYpoKu6LVMeTiUYB-DWes_4NpJnkFw/s1600/The+two+dots.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByOGZ_DBNVciJt3jrL0CP5YPgUf7se2G24lD1vEeNrYItIluAmGAnGissDq58PyJiZCkGe18Tg2dX1qZeUPVRYWwtm8SF0SaIc_Zygm4zLvyXVQYpoKu6LVMeTiUYB-DWes_4NpJnkFw/s640/The+two+dots.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So then can we actually keep the two points close to one another, within the local field and well below the high energy line? Yes, I believe so. However, it is not an overnight breakthrough to be a maser of anger management, I, myself could not do it within six months but a series of mind exercises that included texting and calling the people I thought I really disliked (I seriously hope this will not cause chills somewhere, haha), I made it. Not to say I do not get angry anymore but having crushed my first computer at work because i lost my temper, it is a scenario that is very unlikely to repeat itself. The key is to constantly keep the green dot close to the black one because if you let that guy wander off alone, he can be a bad guy.</div>
<br />
So we ought to really think about this, to exercise self awareness, to exercise the art of being able to retreat, to say enough with the yelling and fist clenching. To master your emotions is to master your personal conduct. We can be better people. We can definitely do things like take walks, go for movies, pull each others hair and watch the moon, all this in good light. The only thing we should perhaps not try to do is eat up each others Ice Cream because that drives me crazy, it drives me so mad, haha. I am kidding, we should share ice cream too, especially if I finish mine up first.<br />
<br />
Much Love.Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7506558308264645736.post-84464893519897757382015-05-14T06:55:00.001-07:002018-10-22T03:54:45.861-07:00The Power of Appreciation<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We all
want to be likable, to be </span>recognized<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> and to be successful. The reverse of each
will put off any normal human being, no one wants to be disliked, disregarded
or to be or even feel like a let-down. Those are the aspects of life that we
normally are conscious of but I want to share my thoughts on an aspect less conferred,
appreciation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Too often we underestimate the
power of a touch, a smile, a kind
word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential
to turn a life around” - <b>Leo Buscaglia</b></span></i></blockquote>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I want to
focus on the issue of “an honest compliment”, out of <i>Leo Buscaglia’s</i> quote that sums up the value of appreciation in our
lives. This draws attention on two very important words; honesty and a
compliment. This means someone must hold honesty high in their list of values
and he must come forward and initiate grounds on giving this compliment to the
person who <i>deserves</i> it. This makes
the other person aware that someone notices their hard work, beauty or great
effort and that someone cares. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqcwC2maJD71KqSzu4ihAd-KVQvaP0qgR-fRwReBYLIA2iFfyEetA1kJFhRHLd28nUrigF2OrAJxJdIEHOYJTbGQWDTzQGUhI7O4i9uVBMRHQC5rQl3yDejddVHza4IBP-MmFuYhyphenhyphenp2U/s1600/a-job-well-done-pat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqcwC2maJD71KqSzu4ihAd-KVQvaP0qgR-fRwReBYLIA2iFfyEetA1kJFhRHLd28nUrigF2OrAJxJdIEHOYJTbGQWDTzQGUhI7O4i9uVBMRHQC5rQl3yDejddVHza4IBP-MmFuYhyphenhyphenp2U/s400/a-job-well-done-pat.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Show recognition </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I want to
touch more on what actually happens when you give someone a compliment on
something they did or how they look or a speech they gave. I want to talk in terms
of what happens to their self-esteem and what the result does to their effort
and accomplishment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Often, we
are inclined to think that doing exceptionally well in our daily work places
doesn’t necessarily need to result in a reward as we are anyways employed to do
the job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">People
want to reward the extraordinary and that which is perhaps out of the normal
expected outcomes. Therefore, much of what we do go unnoticed as such and thus
feelings of less appreciation builds up in us. However when we choose to do so,
which I recommend, it yields positive results that sees the person rewarded or
complemented.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">First, we
need to ask ourselves the question; <i><b>what
motivates someone to do better?</b></i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There are
many answers ranging from the presence of role models, awareness of a high
success index, need to fulfil a promise, achievement of a certain status,
promotion in job rankings, money and family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">All the reasons
above are good, but they all mean the person must take the first step to work
towards improvement and all this is done consciously. However, and this is the
take away package, appreciation starts a step back. When you show appreciation
to someone, you instantly stimulate feelings of self-reward in them. This is
the utmost assurance that recognition has been given. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">If the
colleague is ware that he is appreciated, whether in terms of a reward with a
message of appreciation or simply a compliment given, he will know he has
reached the goal or the ultimate level in whatever they were doing. He will
also know that if he does the same thing tomorrow, it is unlikely to yield
another note of appreciation simply because that level of expectation has been
rewarded already, it has been established that he can reach such levels and
anything else done at that same level will not be out of the extraordinary. This
is the same whether it is a friend who wore a very nice outfit, a child who
cleaned his room very well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBg7kW1txltMi9dZOLHco4UmNdSNAWYV60Cq_rykYszE5aU-nB7qtyqH6N3woG4RTSkwoPQE9vWwA0ukVLbov6combk45nbqQDSuq1nZ8JKhuu3YdJHNm_O-EPTu6hThkn-0Y__Or3NY/s1600/youlooknicetodaytori-jpg_161324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBg7kW1txltMi9dZOLHco4UmNdSNAWYV60Cq_rykYszE5aU-nB7qtyqH6N3woG4RTSkwoPQE9vWwA0ukVLbov6combk45nbqQDSuq1nZ8JKhuu3YdJHNm_O-EPTu6hThkn-0Y__Or3NY/s400/youlooknicetodaytori-jpg_161324.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This would definitely make my day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">So let us
link this to self-esteem which in sociology and psychology is defined as the
measure to which a person’s overall subjective emotional evaluation of his or
her own worth is reflected. It is a judgement of oneself as well as an attitude
toward oneself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We see
the words “subjective’ and “oneself” which all mean that it is a feeling that
is entirely personal, it is a feeling that every individual can only feel
towards him/herself. It is therefore very important that something must
stimulate this person to feel this way that s/he is worth more. In most cases
though it often happens unconsciously, when someone feels appreciated, it very
likely increases their levels of self-esteem from low self-esteem to a healthy
self-esteem. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I believe
people with a healthy or elevated self-esteem are bold, confident and are open
to taking up bigger challenges. They are also likely, with great confidence;
demonstrate levels of understanding which enables them to teach others. When
this self-esteem is acquired, greater effort is thus easy to attain and impose
on future tasks; it gives a feeling of “I can do much better”. Success comes
easy when someone does something knowing that they are doing a great job, this
can be backed up by their good self-esteem and thus the effort they invest in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhHbfRa0VkgHTenYHzOuovY7WhbbGCqunY78pWtHTlT-4W3YppUD7RbIyCS4yfs9AaZGRjxng4B0PY6XO0rclC6ho1p47YYuXrstQ3R-cSU2h3Aul-mZikmqzL0OzTYL_mGwuZo4_N_4/s1600/self-esteem.gif.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhHbfRa0VkgHTenYHzOuovY7WhbbGCqunY78pWtHTlT-4W3YppUD7RbIyCS4yfs9AaZGRjxng4B0PY6XO0rclC6ho1p47YYuXrstQ3R-cSU2h3Aul-mZikmqzL0OzTYL_mGwuZo4_N_4/s400/self-esteem.gif.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Low Self-Esteem. Saul McLeod, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">So I
think, besides anything else like coaching or training or giving advice or
information in how to do better, showing appreciation remain the easiest and
most effective way of inducing a good self-esteem, investments of greater
efforts and thus, driving success. Showing appreciation is thus the greatest
motivator we can give one another. I hope you learnt something from this, thank you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Blue Short Pantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09374011906665141575noreply@blogger.com0