For
me this is an unusual time. It used to be a time I looked forward to with great
enthusiasm: Travelling to my grandparents; being together with my cousins whom
I hadn’t seen for a year (and I’m talking about real cousins here not the gay
guy ‘cousin’); Christmas carols; lights; shopping for new wears and presents; church
at night; receiving and opening presents; lots and lots of food; lots and lots
and lots of people…in short, a feast for the senses. It would become such a
heady experience that January would be filled with what (so I’m told) addicts
would call severe withdrawal symptoms after a month of unadulterated excess. I
loved Christmas, Hard.
So
just before I went live today…
Cole: OMG! Look, you’re fly, I’m fly; you are a
legal mind, I’m a stakeholder in the
judicial process as well – though one of your fellow learned friends that I’m
sure is well known to me alluded that that line might as well mean I’m a
jailbird when I was trying to make small talk with him – you’re single, I’m very
single and yes you are also a tall tower of water…shouldn’t we make out or
something?
KBA:(Blushing)
Cole, thanks very much for that astute description, aren’t you supposed to be
on sabbatical or something?
Cole: Please, you honestly didn’t expect me to
miss the season finale…besides someone has to lock up the studios you know! (Giggles) How is Nyali?
KBA: It’s so so, when are you coming again?
Cole: Er…is that like a date? Let’s see…the last
time you almost made me miss my flight back to NBO on a Sunday evening and you
still owe me that KBA-patented-evening-stroll at Haller Park?
KBA: Oh Boy, you really remember everything! Sure,
I’ll meet my end. By the way something I meant to ask you after some recent
article. Are you High Maintenance?
Cole:(sighs)
To answer the first question maybe next year after January, so make sure you rent
a yacht by then (He has a serious face
on) Secondly, I look at myself as an independent but also a wannabe HMB.
But hey,cash only impresses lazy boys. When a pretty boy works
hard and smart, a man with money is just a bonus not a ladder of upgrade!
KBA: Well put Ms.T.S.R.
I think I’ll reserve my further comments when we are off camera!
Cole: (Throwing his hands up) Yay! Sh*t, where are
my manners? (Shaking my hands)Thanks
for agreeing to host us today.
KBA: No, thanks you for being patient with me and
giving me the chance to wrap up your writing season.
Cole: Trust me, I could make Job jealous. I’m just
heading out to go apply my lip gloss then come for the…
KBA:(Smiling)
Get out of here!
******
Over the years, as an adult, I’ve approached
this season with caution, sometimes even despair. Caution because of not
wanting to hope too much and end up being disappointed. Despair at the things I
haven’t yet done and for the uncertain New Year that is to happen upon me. And
I find that, apart from the incessant partying and the copious spending of
money (something I never did when I was younger- it was all paid for by the
adults anyway, right?); there really is nothing much to Christmas anymore. Is
there?
In the last, say, five years, I believe I have
done some growing up: loved ones have been lost and Christmas has compounded
their loss; I have been broke in more than one sense and Christmas has
compounded the “brokenness”; there have been fewer family get-togethers and
Christmas has compounded the sense of isolation; a relationship was ended and
Christmas has compounded the sense of loneliness and desperation.
Setbacks are your comebacks at Christmas.
Yet I am still here, faced with another
Christmas. But this time I’m looking forward to it again. Well, kind of
mostly because things have started looking up. I have a lot to be grateful about.
Despite the stress and troubles I can look back and smile and count my
blessings and list my achievements. I can put Christmas 2011 next to Christmas
2012 and say that I am not in the same place now as I was then. Some improvements
have been made and that gives me courage and an incentive to go on for
another year. I have made friendships that have been vital to my
journey. My eyes have been opened a little more to myself and the world
around me. I am getting closer to my goal. I am not completely disillusioned
and I love the people in my life for better or for worse. I still see
the cloud’s silver lining. I am more self-aware. I am stronger than
before. I am healthy. This Christmas I will sing Christmas Carols deliriously
and be more euphoric because I am alive. And every moment I remember these things, I am
happy.
That is the essence of this whole festive
season and you my esteemed readers have a not only a right to think about these
things but also to live and love life.
(Looking
at my watch) Hmm, now
where is this bloke who promised me a smooch? Oh boy, he’s here!
HappyChristmasandNewYear!
KBA
The writer is a lawyer working for
gain (and fun) in this beautiful Republic. He loves swimming, fine dining, adventure in
serene milieus over a reading matter and his Chilean wine vintage. He’s not only a fan but
also a good comrade and critic to T.S.R.
I’m fucked
up. Duh! All zega men lives are. One day you wake up and every man you run into
is instant eye candy then the next day you don’t even have an eye for any of
them. Yes, on this second last article of the season, I have a tale of two fine
men…
This morning during the usual dance-while-you-are-naked-dressing-for-work session, I decided that the gangnam style is totally ridiculous and just like anything that goes viral, it's no longer a fad.
So last
time after hosting the money boys’ article which by the way seems to have picked
up as my best piece thanks to your kind and well deserved reviews, I headed out
to shop for some birthday gifts for probably the most important girl in my life: My honorary mama. Well,
it was an afternoon well spent and in case any of you wants to get some gift
items for your husbandbaby, HMB or even that gay digger who
devotedly gives you head then I think you should take a stroll to Enka – Rasha.
At the jewelry section just next to the entrance there is a counter which has some
low cost (Kshs. 500) but classy watches that I think will give that personal
touch to anyone you hold dear. I got one for myself of course on impulse; maybe
I should get 2 or more to reward any of you who’ll give me an incisive feedback
to most if not all of the bitching my guests and I have done here. Had lunch
with the sister figure who accompanied me that afternoon since it was a joint
effort then just when I had boarded the bus home, some two men walked in…
Behind the Scene(s)
There was
a woman whose elderly husband adored sugar which wasn’t good for his health so she really desired him to stop. The woman went to seek the counsel of Mahatma Gandhi over
the matter. Gandhi advised her to go back after 3 months. When the lady went
back after 3 months, he advised her to again come back after 3 months. When the
lady went back after this period, Gandhi now authoritatively advised her to go
tell the husband not to take sugar. Why
did he send her back and forth in those previous visits? Gandhi was known
not to give advice to things he couldn’t do. He had to stop taking the sugar himself
before becoming an authority on the matter. Have you registered as a voter?
Well this past Saturday I woke up and that was the only thing in mind before
the other activities in my social diary. Of course I went to my barber at least
to get my hair trimmed a bit. What? The camera on the BVR kit is really
flawless and a pretty boy got to look nice for such a noble and National importance
appointment! One of my colleagues looked at my Job and National ID’s, my
utility card, my drivers’ license and now the voter details screen shot and has
since concluded that I’m so vain. Oh Please, isn’t it all in the code? A pretty
boy shall pose when any lens is availed before him even for Government
documents! Okay, let me be sober now.
Being a
registered voter means I have a warrant to bitch about all these politicians as I please.
Forget about those of you seated behind computer screens playing armchair
activists and whining on social media yet you are still unregistered. It only
takes you 3 minutes and instantly gives you this aura of self-importance of participating in National affairs. Get your damn ass to that center and
register, I have!
Golfing ideas, missing holes…
On Sunday
I had a meet and greet courtesy of one
of you (I do meet my fans). It was originally supposed to be a coffee date but when he finally
arrived in the company of some equally adorable pretty boy, plans promptly changed:
We went to play putt. Okay being a first timer to some amateur expensive hobby I had to do some little research for the purposes
of this article and some of you:
‘Putting is the most precise aspect of the
game of golf. The putter must be designed to give the golfer every technical
advantage including
smooth stroke, good glide, sweet impact, and bounce-less
topspin ball launch as well as every technique advantage including perfect fit
as to shaft
angle and length.’ – Wikipedia.
Maybe it’s
just me but the above definition was undeniably supplied by a zega man (check
the highlighted portions) Then there is also the bit of missing holes or using too much
force to putt! MB even made things worse by softly requesting us to take care
of our balls
lest we pay a fine of 100 shillings each! Who
doesn’t take care of their balls? Thankfully, he clarified what balls he was
talking about and we started the game. Of course I sent a quick text to the only golf
pro I know in my man inventory telling him I was out playing golf: David. He responded immediately asking me where and with whom. Men are just so fickle
at times!
Wait! I
must also address my mind to that absurd quote of the week the IdentityKenya boss
shared on his timeline last week. I just have to jerk it off my chest because
next season is too far and I’ll probably have forgotten all about it. It was something like
this: ‘Being bottom is not a disability.’I think the primary intention of this avowal was
meant to be frivolous but I have since articulated to him that it’s misdirected, demeaning,
barbaric and ought to be treated with the utmost contempt it deserves. You
really want to get me started on those chest thumping tops that come just 5
minutes into foreplay then leave the over excited ‘pillow biter’ high and dry? What about
those whom when they are finally in take
ages pumping and thrusting in all manner of positions but nothing comes out of it then they start blaming
outside sources like alcohol and stress as the poor bottom nurses a sore man pussy! Please, let’s not get over our
heads being top is not ability. These two roles need each other for their relevance and without one the
other is disabled redundant, Period.Hope
this position is now clear to the original draughtsman of the above-mentioned
quote.
A tale of two men…
The bus
wasn’t full and I was conveniently seated next to the window just getting my reading
matter (By the way this morning I finished the second book in the Trilogy, it wasn't as graphic) and highlighter. When I raised my head to survey how the capacity was, the
two guys walked in. The first one was not so tall, darker than me though but
definitely fetching. He had a muscular body that is a product of regular workout;
had on some black plain V-neck T-shirt that emphasized his chest features
pretty well. I mean the firm nipples were conspicuous and he was carrying a gym
bag…I’ll come back to him later.
Number
two was similarly tall; very light skinned (but not the mixed race
type), had a muscular body that oozed the scent of some not-so-cheap male
fragrance and absolutely gorgeous, damn! With the fitting blue T-shirt that accentuated
his broad chest and biceps that made me feel tingly in my secret places, he
looked like one of those things you see in those glossy Men magazines on the newsstands!
See, they
had just walked in together, the dark guy ahead of the light one and the two
seats next to me were still empty. For a moment I thought they all play rugby
going by their fine chiseled physiques. I immediately relinquished my window
position for number one and moved to the center. The stunning number two opted
to sit with us but upon reflection (because he had been going to the rear of the bus) such that now
I was conveniently sandwiched between two beautiful men. That was
the beginning of my problems…
The bus
finally set off. Glad I’d folded my shirt sleeves and considering I was reading
(or at least pretending to), my arms of course momentarily rubbed with theirs
making me feel totally helpless. Guys, someone may look so busy and all
professional but the evil deeds they are doing in their brains!
Number
one’s phone rang and he got into a conversation. I was too close so I could make
out the context of the same. That’s not eavesdropping, No? I think he was
talking to some equally smitten lady (or guy). He professed how he had missed
her and told her he was just heading for training at Impala. Shit! He’ll alight before me. ‘I’ll call
you once I’m back in town at around 8. Love you.’ Fuck, he’s taken!
Of course
the rest of the journey was screwed and the usual Nairobi traffic wasn’t
helping. In fact I withdrew my right arm a bit so that the brief rub didn’t
occur any more with number one then I started doing what zega guys do when they can’t get the man they
want. Even his voice isn’t as
authoritative as I thought. At some two intervals I looked outside and when
he turned our eyes met. Gosh he had those dark piercing eyes that only God
knows how we’d use them if we were in a desert alone. I quickly considered his
fingers particularly his thumb. Call me sick or crazy but I don’t know who told
me or where I read that when you look at a man’s thumb you just need to triple
it to get the actual size of his erect… so it wasn’t really a loss!
The
conductor reached our seat to collect fare and the two hunks of men quickly
removed their wallets to pay their fares and I thought I secretly saw lady
photos (No offence girls) in their respective wallets. Holy Fuck, they are straight as arrows.
Reprieve of sorts and a man’s thumbs…
I whisked
my fare payment card out of my man purse and gave it to the conductor. Since I
had to turn towards number two as I waited for the conductor to swipe it, I thanked the
gods. The edible number two looked intrigued. After the conductor had done his
thing and my phone had acknowledged the transaction through a text, number two
requests to have a look at the card. Thank
you Jesus! The guy not only has a killer smile but his large brown eyes are
manly. His light skin is flawless and his goatee and chest frame is a fantasy I
think I have kept safely for my future husband
pursuits. I belatedly notice that the top two buttons on his T-shirt are
open and I can see something like some hair underneath. To be open, I was
totally disarmed. Maybe this is what E.L James was talking about when she
asked: How can anyone look this good and still be legal? Then just when he’s
about to ask me something his phone rings. Shit.
I officially hate mobile phones!
‘Yeah, I’ve already worked on the estimates, what
you can do is just send me the final quotations…’ Phew,
thank God he’s all business but wait...he’s speaking funny.’…I’m already
on my way to Ngong Road so I should give you feedback by…sure…mwambie
tutawasiriana baadaye.’Fuck! He isn’t Kenyan.
He asks me
to explain to him how the card works which I gladly do in my impeccable English
now that I’ve realized he’s Tanzanian (He has that Hemedi of Tusker Project
Fame complexion). I quickly scan the fingers as he hands back my card
gratefully. Shit, there is a wedding band. Maybe it’s one of those metals men use to keep ladies (or
men) at bay. His thumb in this case if I go by the Tripling theory, let me just
say I’m protective of my ass! I suddenly feel a bulge underneath my man purse. Holy fuck, I’m horny!
Facing the truth
The bus
is now on Ngong Road and I’m trying to make a mental note of these two
creatures because I won’t be with them for long. So I get into reality mode. Cole, calm down. They are just eye candy cupid has sent to
help you zero down your choices in men. Number one is now on his phone
texting or something. He’s the kind of guy I’d just have a
one-night-totally-protected fling with because he’s that type of guy you
instantly don’t trust but seems quite like an acrobat in sex-ercise. I bet he
uses that ‘I’ve missed you’ line on all the ladies (or men). My future flings
(if any) ought to accommodate this type and hey, who knows? That thumb theory
does not entirely reflect the actual size on the ground!
Number
two is the guy I’d show up with at a party an ex is attending just to flaunt
him. Make sure I’m seated on his lap, my head resting on his well-developed frame
where I’m drawing some circles as he chats with his friends the whole time we are there and upon retiring home, make sure I aim to please him hoping he lifts
me at some point during foreplay, tie my wrists and do some bad things with me
before falling asleep inside his arms but then I’m Cole. I don’t date men whose
hotness I realize instantly. It’s not only a risk but a bad omen. I stick to the men whose beauty you
realize shortly after seeing them. He’s definitely a trophy boyfriend
material (of course with the risk of competition from these horny boys all over the place) but
he’ll sure be a good sperm donor for some future babies damn!
He got off at the next bus stop after Adams Arcade just opposite Executive
Motors car bazaar of course with a quick but too officious adios. I think he is
putting up in one of those beautiful apartments. So the bus ride with number
one continued with me still pretending to read (I’d only flipped 5 pages from
the CBD) He finally alights at the Impala club. There is a reason I said somewhere in this blog that I don’t date brief
men. These men had height, whoa! I gladly took back my window position
and remained undistracted until I got home. I was already many eye candy ahead of the zega humanity!
HappyHolidays!
Since I’m
probably the second last host on T.S.R for this season, (next week there is
someone I’d like you to meet to wrap it all up for us) I do take this opportune
moment to say it’s been a prolific year and we ought to be appreciative for the
little things life has availed our way. Make sure you spoil yourself this festive
season, you merit it! Thank you to bits for taking time off your busy schedules
to visit T.S.R. I have my journal to diarize all the juicy escapades I'll undergo for the
next season. I’ll be on stand by so kindly feel free to interact with me on our
official Facebook page (T.S.R– By Cole Mutahi) By-Cole-Mutahi. On my part (until the premiere on 15th January, 2013) , a feisty festive season, good
health and emotional wellness are my wishes to you. Come closer: Mwaaaaaaaaaah!
It's your kick ass, raunchy (and IEBC registered) Host:
